


barely legal

by centaur, witchofspaz



Series: bad decisions [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Birthday, Blow Jobs, First Time, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship, Topping from the Bottom, Unrelated Striders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 01:32:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18458711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centaur/pseuds/centaur, https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchofspaz/pseuds/witchofspaz
Summary: Dating a minor is a terrible idea.But finally fucking your newly legal boyfriend for the first time is a great one.





	1. you know i can't hear none of that spend the night shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting this shit in on 413, might still need some editing but
> 
> happy homestuck day yall we love you!!!!!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ps they do not fuck in this chapter sorry

\-- message from Dirk Lalonde (STUDENT) at 19:07 --  
You up?  
no  
Evidence is pointing to the contrary so far.  
Can I come over?  
no  
Dave.  
dirk  
Come on.  
Our birthday technically starts at midnight so if I’m already over at your place, then we can get a jump start on celebrating.  
cool idea bro  
too bad the only thing i want to get a jump start on tonight is catching some sweet zs  
you gotta get a jump start cuz they are stupid hard to grab  
wiley little shits all floating around peoples heads while theyre sleeping  
so anyway   
im going to sleep now  
Have you bothered to look at a clock recently? It is barely five minutes past seven.   
yep  
thats precisely the jump start i need  
You’re literally going to spend the next four hours staring at the ceiling, wishing you had agreed to my plan and making a huge fucking mess of your emotions.  
I could make everything so much easier, Dave. Just let me come over.  
I’ll bring snacks, we can Netflix. Cuddle on the couch. Maybe make out a little.  
I have set an alarm so we know exactly when the dicks are officially allowed to come out.  
zzz  
oh snap dirk look  
i got em  
You’re the fucking worst. Can you at least tell me what time I can show up tomorrow?  
the zs wait for no man  
goodnight  


  


\-- message from Dirk Lalonde (STUDENT) at 6:35 --  
Morning, birthday boy. Did you sleep?  
yeah why wouldnt i  
did you think i was gonna say i was up all night anticipating your dick  
Pretty much, yeah.  
Or I was hoping you’d at least be horny enough for it that you would extend an invitation to come over without me prompting you.  
since when have you needed an invitation to show up at my door ready to bone down  
True.  
I was just trying to be polite this time because it's your birthday. Figured I should try to confirm your readiness to get dicked since now there is nothing stopping us.  
Honestly, we should be celebrating your incredible restraint. You did it, Dave.   
You have never seen or touched my underage dick. Congrats.   
thanks  
Not to pressure you, but I feel like inviting me over would be a fitting celebration.  
shouldnt you be getting ready for school  
Hmm.  
Oh shit, hold on, Mom is calling for me.   
I think she’s been making breakfast, which means I might need to find my fire extinguisher.  
ok let me know if your house burns down and/or you die  


  


\-- message from Dirk Lalonde (STUDENT) at 7:10 --  
Everything is fine. Jane just came over for pancakes.  
Check this shit out.   
\-- Dirk Lalonde (STUDENT) sent file “horsecake.PNG” --  
that cake is dope  
dirk your friends are much cooler than you and also more talented  
except for jake  
You know it turns me on when you get jealous.  
who said i was jealous  
i just happen to think jake is lame for totally unrelated reasons  
Yeah, and my dick is hard for unrelated reasons too.  
tmi  
Do you want a pic?  
nope  
Too bad.   
\--  Dirk Lalonde (STUDENT) sent file “horsecock.PNG” --  
dude no way im fuckin opening that  
This isn’t a dead dove situation, I promise.  
fine im trusting you against my better judgment  
aww you guys are the cutest  
well jane and roxy are  
Don’t snitch on us, okay? Roxy and Jane are only missing first period and I’m sure you don’t care about what Jake is missing.  
doesnt jake live on the island of doctor zhivago or something  
does he even go to school  
He’s in some sort of online school. Anyway, he’s only missing out on going to bed at a reasonable time.  
yeah i dont care about that  
bedtimes are bullshit anyway  
Wow, that wasn’t the story you were obstinately sticking to last night when I was texting you.  
man i told you i needed those zs  
so how many periods are you missing???  
All of them.   
oh shit dirk did you get teen pregnant  
Somehow yes, and my mom is going to be so disappointed in me. The one thing she always warns me not to do before I leave the house.  
youre gonna have to transfer to the special school for fallen teens so your loose morals and lack of self control dont corrupt the impressionable youth  
and also so they can snatch the baby from you the second it pops out  
leaving you with a heart full of regret and longing for what could have been for the rest of your ruined life  
anyway  
i guess it was nice knowing you  
How can you do me like this, Dave? What if you’re the father?  
we already established earlier that ive never seen your underage dick  
Yeah, but I ain’t been fucking anyone else. I’m committed, unlike some people.   
I can’t believe you’re trying to make me some other sexy teacher’s problem, when I definitely conceived the moment I saw those two inches of your dick that one time in your kitchen.  
Whatever. I don’t need you. I bet my new smoking hot professors would have invited me over before my 18th birthday.   
They teach at the shitty, horny kid school, so I’m sure they fuck their students all the time.  
you told me i was the only teacher you were desperately trying to get in bed  
i thought you loved me for me but any asshole with an inadequate salary and a fetish for apples would have done  
i feel so used  
Join the fucking party, dude. Happy birthday.  
happy birthday  
now go to school  
Did auto-correct change that from “come over”?   
no but i like your optimism  
jk its extremely obnoxious  
how did you get approximately five thousand people to sleep with you  
Well, obviously, it is because I fuck real good.  
And I can prove it to you. If you let me come over.  
after school  
Hey, cool news.  
It just so happens that, technically, this very second is “after school” because Mom just called me out sick as a birthday gift.   
So...  
...  
.........  
..............  
...................  
no  
Then when?  
later??  
Fine.   
I’ll check in again in an hour. I’m going to go watch trash television with my mom before she goes to the lab.  
fuck if that isnt the most adorable thing i ever heard  


  


\-- message from Dirk Lalonde (STUDENT) at 12:40 --  
Roxy says your sub sucks ass.   
has it been an hour already damn  
oh shit its been like 5 time sure does fly  
tell roxy im sorry for abandoning her but i have no control over which sorry asshole they find to replace me  
She also made an extremely raunchy joke about subs and sucking ass that I refused to respond to, but it was honestly pretty clever.  
nice  
Submissive ass sucking aside,  
I’ve been packed since last night and I’m getting impatient to see you.  
"""""getting impatient"""""  
implying that you have been super chill this entire time  
Yeah, so, I’m changing tactics now and *telling* you that I’m coming over.  
interesting approach lets give it a shot  
I’m coming over, Dave.  
ok i guess i cant stop you since youre an adult now  
Hell fucking yes.   
You want me to pick you up any cigarettes, lottery tickets, fireworks, or porn on my way?  
Because I can legally buy those now.  
yeah pick me up the latest issue of barely legal teens  
I’ll do you one better.  


\---------------------------------

Dirk has been on his doorstep enough lately that it doesn’t feel particularly novel or unsettling to find him there again. Dave wonders idly if it was intentional, like exposure therapy for this exact moment, as Dirk takes his silent invitation and steps into the apartment with his backpack slung over his shoulder and a full looking duffle bag tucked under his arm. Dave shuts the door behind him, watching as he drops his bags in the entryway and toes off his shoes.

He turns towards Dave with a smile that makes Dave’s heart stutter. “Hey,” he greets, casual as anything, as he shifts closer and leans over to kiss him softly. “Happy birthday.” 

That’s all it is, after two months of build-up. Just a simple kiss and a happy birthday, then Dirk turns back to his bag and starts pulling out tupperware. “Cake now or after dinner?”

Dave nearly sways on his feet and is reminded that he owes Dirk a response after about a minute of trying to re-calibrate to not having his ass jumped. “...You made cake?”

“No, Jane made cake. It’s the one I sent you pics of earlier,” he replies. “And since you called me uncool and talentless like six hours ago, and I can’t let that shit slide: in a unsubtle attempt to prove you wrong, I’m making dinner.”

“You’re making dinner,” Dave repeats, knowing as the words leave his mouth how idiotic he sounds.

Dirk gives him a shrewd, considering look. “I was also working under the assumption you wouldn’t want to go out somewhere nice.” The ‘with me, your barely legal boyfriend’ hangs in the air unsaid. “So,” he states, waving a brick of fancy looking cheese before balancing it on the stack of containers. “I’m making us carbonara, since you liked my eggs last time.”

“No, it’s nice.” And he’s right, Dave would be twitchy as hell in a restaurant. He hovers awkwardly, unsure. “Can I help?”

“I’m sure I can find something for you to do,” Dirk says with not quite enough innocence to make the word choice seem accidental.

Dave squints at him. “Right.” He hesitates. “Nothing involving the stove. Or the oven. Unless you like burned food and minor house fires.”

“Cheese grating?” Dirk suggests, tossing the cheese in Dave’s direction. 

“I can probably do that,” Dave says, and immediately casts doubt on that claim by fumbling the catch and almost dropping it. “Wait, what do eggs have to do with carbonara?”

“You don’t know what the sauce is made with?” Outright flirtatious for the first time since his arrival, Dirk cracks into a teasing smile and tilts his head. “Guess I get to be the teacher tonight.” 

Tupperware in hand, he heads into the kitchen as Dave trails him, belatedly muttering a “fuck off.” Shitty teen already acting like he owns the place. 

Though to be fair, he seems to know the kitchen even better than Dave. He must have memorized the cupboards and their contents when he spent the night (what a fucking Dirk thing to do), immediately finding a grater that Dave didn’t even know he had. He pulls out pots and pans and pops the lids off the tupperware. Dave leans over to peer at the contents—one has some sort of thinly sliced meat, one has what looks like peas, one has some kind of dough in it. Dirk looks at Dave looking and when their eyes meet, Dirk’s mouth quirks. Like he's barely pubescent again, Dave blushes.

Turning away quickly to cover, he busies himself with the cheese. “So, like the whole block, or what?”

“Like a cup. Just grate and I’ll let you know when to stop.” As Dirk replies, he fills a pot with water, tosses in salt, and sets it on a burner. Pulling out a previously unknown rolling pin from God knows where, he sets the dough onto a cutting board and begins rolling in smooth, easy movements. It’s hard not to watch the muscles in his arms move as they perform what seems to be a well practiced task. What the fuck. Dave grips the cheese uncertainly, distracted as he rasps it against the grater.

Dirk glances over from his rolling as if feeling Dave's horny staring. “Watch your fingers,” he warns, but Dave has already caught his knuckles and dropped the cheese. Dirk immediately comes over and inspects Dave’s hand—just a very mild skinning of his index and middle finger. “You’re okay. Didn’t draw blood.” Like something out of a romance novel, his eyes travel up from the injured fingers and make contact with Dave's again as he brings each finger to his mouth and gently kisses it. “You want a different task to do?”

“No, I can handle it,” Dave says defensively, snatching his hand away and shaking it as if to rid his skin of the embarrassingly effective moves Dirk keeps pulling on him.

“Alright,” Dirk laughs. “Try not to lose any appendages.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Dave mumbles, turning back to the cheese and throwing himself into the grating to distract from the tension. They work in silence for a while, the whirring of the pin as it rolls and the scraping noise serving as a dialog. Dave finds himself relaxing into a rhythm. Being next to Dirk in the kitchen, cooking together is… surprisingly comfortable. Though maybe the real surprise is that they are both still wearing all of their clothes after all of the expectations Dirk had built up for this date. It is sort of nice to be able to just enjoy each other's company on their shared birthday.

“Dave.” Always on the same mental track, Dirk puts a hand on Dave's shoulder, and when he turns his head to respond, Dirk catches his lips, kissing him firmly before opening his mouth with his tongue in a move so smooth Dave almost feels dizzy. He rests his hand on Dave’s waist, hot and possessive, and Dave could swear he feels literal sparks, but before the heat can rise above a simmer, Dirk breaks the kiss. “I think that should be enough." At Dave's dumbstruck face, he adds, "You can stop grating now.”

Seemingly unaffected by how thoroughly he just fucked Dave up, Dirk turns his focus back to the sheet of dough and finishes cutting it into neat little strips. Dave's fingers, wrapped tightly around the rind of cheese, flex to stifle the urge to grab Dirk and pull him back in. It only sort of helps, but that was probably Dirk's plan all along.

“Okay,” Dave replies, both faintly and belatedly. When Dirk gives him a slanted look, he sets the grater firmly down on the counter and just stands there like a moron for a second or two before trying to shake it off. Assigned task accomplished, he peers over at what witchcraft Dirk is doing--currently lightly shaking flour over the strips and making sure they are spread around on the board. It's recognizable from the public access cooking shows that he sometimes zones out to while grading assignments. “Is that, like—did you __make__ pasta? Like from scratch?”

Dirk snorts, seemingly at himself for being so fucking extra. “Yeah. Excessive, I know.” No one ever could accuse him of not being self aware.

“No, no,” Dave says hurriedly. This is the most complicated meal that anyone has ever cooked for him. God, is he sweating? It's probably just the stove. Kitchen. Cooking. “It’s cool. It’s… impressive.”

One of Dirk’s eyebrows arches at that mess that just spilled out of Dave’s mouth, but his expression reads pleased. Oozing pride, he slides over to Dave and scoops the grated cheese into a bowl. “Well it’s your birthday. I want it to be special.”

“Oh.” Dave really doesn’t know what to say to that. All of the hair on his arms is raised from anticipatory goosebumps. “It’s your birthday too?”

Dave’s awareness of how close their bodies are suddenly intensifies as Dirk reaches around Dave to sweep any stray cheese into the sink. His chest is solid against Dave’s back, and his breath skims hotly across Dave’s neck as he leans in. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” he coos, his lips brushing across the juncture of Dave’s neck and shoulder. Dave’s skin burns where they touched and he enters a brief, involuntary reverie as images of how Dirk intends to make his own birthday special flash across his mind. It’s broken when Dirk swipes the grater into the sink and moves towards the stove, fingers casually trailing across the small of Dave’s back as he steps away. 

Dave tries to chill out his heart rate with pure force of will. He doesn’t have much luck, and changes the subject instead. “Anything else you need help with?”

The eyebrow inches a little higher this time, but rather than point out how flushed Dave's face is, Dirk replies, “Do you know how to separate eggs?”

“Uhhh. No...”

“I’ll show you.” The ache that had just started to fade gets worse as Dirk approaches again. It’s going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***SPOIPERS*** THEY DO FUCK IN THE NEXT CHAPTER
> 
> no more edging 2k19  
> we will post it within a few days


	2. it's yo birthday so i know you wanna ride out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we love u very much please enjoy the frankly irresponsible amount of porn we have written

“Mind if I have some wine with dinner?”

Dirk shoots him an amused look as he sets the bowls of pasta down at their neatly set places. There’s a fucking candle on the table and it’s all on fire and everything. “I gave you a wine glass for a reason, dude,” he states, flicking the rim and making it ring. “Just don’t expect me to succumb to your peer pressure. Underage drinking is _illegal.”_

Dave snorts. “Don’t worry, I’m wise to your deep respect for the law, especially where age is concerned.” He takes his glass to the fridge and fills it from the boxed white wine stashed on the bottom shelf. Epitome of taste and class. It will relax him, which is all it really needs to be doing.

“Thanks for understanding,” Dirk says sweetly, holding Dave’s chair out.

Dave raises an eyebrow at the cheesy romantic gesture, but sits and takes a sip of his shitty wine. The alcohol gets to work on his nerves. “The food looks good. Smells good.”

“Off to a solid start.” Dirk forks up a mouthful of noodles glistening with creamy yellow sauce and studded with little chunks of crispy meat and salutes Dave with it. Somehow he manages to chew expressionlessly, obviously more interested in Dave’s opinion on the matter than his own and unwilling to risk potentially skewing the verdict with his input. He nods once, which Dave can only assume is in approval, since let’s be real: Dirk would have whisked the food away if he didn’t think it was good enough. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” He salutes Dirk back with his own forkful.

It’s incredible, but that’s not really a surprise. He takes another bite and nearly chokes on it when he feels soft pressure on his ankle. He looks up to find a serenely innocent look on Dirk’s face. Deciding to ignore it is apparently permission for the touch to continue, because it slowly pushes his pant leg up his calf. Dave clears his throat and Dirk’s lips twitch towards a smile while his toes stroke down Dave’s shin. “How is it?”

It takes Dave a long second to realize that Dirk is talking about the food. “Really good,” he replies, a little hoarsely. Dirk’s foot nudges at his ankle again, more firmly now, and Dave shifts it in the direction it seems Dirk is wanting—figuring out a second too late that Dirk is making him spread his legs. He slams his knees together reflexively.

With a snort, Dirk ends the game, but looks way too amused as he continues to eat. The desire to kiss him conflicts with the desire to kick him to the point where Dave isn’t sure which to do, so he takes another drink of wine.

“What have you been doing today, besides repeatedly refusing to let me come over?”

Dave nudges at his pasta with his fork. “Not much. Sitting around the house in my sweats, watching _Real Housewives_ reruns. Pops Egbert stopped by with a ludicrously enormous cake. Had to talk him out of throwing me a party. Again.” He does a very bad impression of Egbert’s stentorian tones: “‘Your thirtieth is a momentous occasion, David, and should not pass unmarked.’”

For once, Dirk doesn’t look pissed off by the mere mention of Principal Egbert. Maybe it’s because he’s finally getting exactly what he wants, and the fact that Dave turned down Dad in order to have this time with Dirk is icing on the metaphorical (though also literal) birthday cake. “I mean, I agree,” he begins, looking at Dave from under his lashes in way that is both sly and sweet. “I do plan on _marking_ it though.”

Dave flushes and steers the conversation toward a safer subject. “Did your mom bum on the no party thing?”

“Nah. Since Roxy’s birthday is tomorrow, we usually do something big for both of us on the following weekend. Mom was good with me staying out tonight as long as I was being safe and having fun.”

Dave’s chest constricts with guilt. “Where does she think you are?”

Dirk’s fork pauses on the way to his lips, then he sets it back down and stiffens his back. His lips draw into an unreadable line, a barricade he can use to hide whatever he’s feeling. “She thinks I’m staying over at my new boyfriend’s place,” he states. “Not untrue—at least, I don’t think it is. Maybe you do?”

“No,” Dave says, a little baffled by Dirk’s defensiveness. “I don’t. I just don’t love the idea of you lying to your mother to be with me. Which you aren’t, I guess.” Not exactly. No doubt she assumes Dirk’s boyfriend is age-appropriate.

“Oh.” Dirk blinks, like he had been steeling himself for a meltdown from Dave and now is unsure of how to continue when that doesn’t happen. “Yeah,” he continues, finding his feet gradually. “Yeah, I don’t lie to her. Or I try not to.” He returns to his food. “But I’m practically an angel compared to how Rose was as a teenager, so she is way more chill with me.”

“Worse than you?” Dave grimaces comically. “That’s mildly terrifying.” Whatever just happened is still bothering him, but he hesitates, not sure if he should dive back into an apparently touchy subject. “Um, did… did you think I wouldn’t like you calling me your boyfriend?”

Leveling a careful look at Dave, Dirk says, “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.”

Dave winces. “Can’t exactly say that ain’t fair.”

Dirk holds tightly to his blank expression as he continues to eat, not willing to relinquish the armor of emotional apathy, not really looking at Dave. He’s clearly struggling with something, but chooses to change the subject rather than pursue it. “What kind of cake did Egbert make you?”

“Yellow cake,” Dave answers, feeling off-balance. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, dude. You didn’t say anything wrong.” Dirk’s eyes flick over Dave quickly, but his head stays down and his guard stays up. “I’m just trying not to ask how you feel about it.” He halfheartedly shrugs a shoulder and continues, “Jane’s cake is marble with fudge icing, and I bet it’s way better.”

“Okay,” Dave says slowly, ignoring that transparent deflection. “Since you basically did ask, do you wanna know how I feel about it?”

Dirk breaks his stoicism to mirror Dave’s earlier expression, wincing into his pasta. “I’m not really sure I do.”

“Yeah, I got that.” Dave puts his fork down and reaches across the table to cover Dirk’s hand with his. “Dirk. Look at me.” At that, Dirk looks up and meets Dave’s eyes, brows knitted and no longer concealing his concern. Dave strives to project sincerity in his tone and expression, willing Dirk to believe what he’s about to say, because despite everything, he means it from the bottom of his soul.

“I am proud to be your boyfriend.”

Instantly, Dirk goes wide-eyed, almost doe-like in his surprise. The warm, flickering candlelight might be fooling Dave’s eyes, but Dirk’s deep ochre complexion seems to shift several shades redder, and his free hand briefly touches the bridge of his nose like he’s trying to push up the shades he’s not wearing. As the slant of his brow changes and his mouth forms an unvocalized ‘oh’, it might be the gentlest he’s looked in all the time Dave has known him. It’s almost definitely the most overwhelmed. 

Their fingers tangle together and Dirk squeezes firmly as he swallows against the tightness in his throat. His voice is still thicker than he would probably prefer as he says, as lightly as he can manage, “Uh, you done with dinner? Because if I’m not kissing you in ten seconds, I’m gonna fuckin’ lose it.” 

Dave looks down at his plate, still half-covered in pasta. “I can be done with dinner.”

“There are leftovers in the fridge,” Dirk replies as his chair screeches against the floor as he pushes it back too quickly to be quiet. Dave can almost see the countdown in Dirk’s head: five seconds left on the clock when he blows out the candle and stands, four and three to step to the other side of the table, two to tug Dave up (no resistance there, Dave is happy to help), one second and his hand is guiding Dave’s hip, the other is sliding into Dave’s hair. Just under the wire.

Once his hands are on Dave, Dirk is suddenly, infuriatingly unhurried, brushing his lips over Dave’s with aching tenderness. His fingernails gently scrape the sensitive skin of Dave’s scalp, sending pleasant chills down his spine and drawing a frustrated noise from the back of his throat. Dirk ignores it and continues his leisurely pace with lazy strokes of his tongue into Dave’s mouth and his other hand toying with the hem of Dave’s shirt. Dave grabs that hand and makes his wishes known by slapping it onto his own ass, and Dirk snorts a laugh.

“Fine, fine,” he murmurs indulgently, though his hand moves off Dave’s ass again and resettles on his hip. A protest starts up in the back of Dave’s throat, but Dirk’s fingers flex soothingly and he starts guiding Dave backwards in little pushes, barely breaking the kiss. They almost make it to the bedroom without incident, but Dirk miscalculates when Dave chases after him as he pulls back to breathe. They both stumble over the strap of Dirk’s duffle bag, but Dave loses his balance, slamming Dirk into the wall just outside the bedroom as he catches himself against his chest. The hollow thump seems to echo in the apartment and oh fuck, he’s so stupid, it’s supposed to be a special night and what if Dirk hurt himself and it’s all ruined? Dave tries to apologize, but first he has to remember how to use his tongue for something other than finding spots on Dirk to taste. It’s a challenge.

Dirk releases his breath in a rush, eyes going dark and hazy as he looks down at Dave pressed against him. If he meant to keep working Dave up slowly, being shoved against the wall, however unintentionally, seems to have literally knocked that idea out of him. Dave’s attempted apology is swallowed by Dirk fairly consuming his mouth, flipping them, trapping Dave against the wall with rough hands on his shoulders. He bites Dave’s already flushed lip, tugs—not gently, but hungry in the way that it is now so obvious he was trying to contain all evening. Unleashed, all of that pent up desire rips the breath out of Dave. 

Dave tears his mouth away to try to suck in air even as Dirk refuses to stop kissing him. His lips simply find other places to be, across Dave’s cheek, along his jaw. “I want…” Dave pants, and trails off as teeth press into his skin. Dirk’s hands stroke along Dave’s spine and up his sides, cutting over to the mussed collar of Dave’s shirt and undoing all the buttons with practiced speed.

He takes his time roaming over Dave’s exposed chest with his palms before he pulls his face from Dave’s neck long enough to admire all of the newly bared skin with his eyes. His gaze lingers on Dave’s left hip, where silhouettes of crows in flight are almost hidden by the waistband of his jeans. His hands start to move in that direction, and Dave’s mind blanks out as they slide down his stomach. “Tell me what you want,” Dirk murmurs in his ear, prompting, his teeth catching on Dave’s earlobe and making him gasp. 

“Closer,” Dave says nonsensically, and wraps his arms around Dirk’s neck. Somehow, Dirk gets the idea, and his hands slide down Dave’s back and grip firmly into his ass, pulling at him encouragingly. With a mental nod of appreciation for their mutual understanding, Dave helps out and bounces up, finding himself immediately sandwiched between Dirk’s body and the wall, weight held up half by Dirk’s hands and half by the pressure of the hard body flush against his. He tightens the grip of his thighs around Dirk’s hips and breathes, “Thanks.”

Laughter rumbles in Dirk’s chest but doesn’t make it any further than huffs of air past his lips as he works along the underside of Dave’s jaw with sharp, wet kisses. His tongue dips into the hollow of Dave’s throat, and his teeth snap bluntly at Dave’s collarbone and press into his shoulder until he pulls keening noises out of Dave. Barely aware of it, Dave’s head lolls in whatever direction Dirk needs to have the most space to suck bruises into his neck, his fingers come up to weakly thread into Dirk’s stiff-soft curls, needing the lifeline, something to clutch onto, and gripping with little concern for messing up his very perfect hair.

Dirk carries him the last few feet down the hall, shifting him into a less awkward position with two jerky hops—because Dave is putty and useless and can only cling and make a pathetic noise when friction crushes his dick into Dirk’s stomach. Dirk boots the bedroom door open hard, ends up having to walk through it backwards when he realizes that it’s lighter than he thought, and his kick has sent it cracking destructively against the wall and bouncing back towards them at high speed to nearly close again. A fleeting look crosses his face, like this was something he should have accounted for, and he’s frustrated that it didn’t go perfectly smoothly. Dave is so in love with him that it physically hurts.

“Your neighbors are going to _hate_ us,” Dirk states in a thick voice, right before toppling Dave to the bed. Dirk’s palms land shortly after, right on either side of Dave’s waist. 

“They’re dicks anyway,” Dave dismisses breathlessly.

“Speaking of.” Dirk’s eyes are practically glowing and very obviously focused on a particular location. 

Dave snorts. “Dude. You can’t serve up a better line than that?”

“I brought you cake, made you dinner, carried you to bed,” Dirk lists as his hands shift to Dave’s waistband. His eyes only briefly flicker up to Dave’s face as he goes for the button, a moment of residual hesitance born from being stopped at this exact point multiple times. Dave just raises an expectant eyebrow and Dirk doesn’t need any more prompting to yank open Dave’s fly. He shifts his hips up to make it easier when Dirk hooks his fingers into the belt loops and starts tugging the jeans down. “I think I have more than fucking earned the right to be little on the nose about this one thing.” God, Dirk is almost gloating as he gets them off completely, tossing them onto the floor and watching them land with a palpable smugness.

“I didn’t get to eat the cake,” Dave points out.

“You didn’t finish your dinner,” Dirk replies flatly, but there is amusement glittering behind his eyes as he slowly drags his tongue with _intention_ across his parted lips, wetting them before adding in a lower voice, “And neither did I.”

“Okay, that line was an improvement,” Dave admits, shifting back on the bed so he’s not dangling halfway off. Dirk follows after him, but only makes it halfway up Dave’s body before he gets to the topic at hand and literally brushes his nose against it. The contact makes Dave shudder and he pushes his hips involuntarily, seekingly towards it. It hits him only seconds later that he is straight up rubbing his very hard dick on his eighteen-year-old student’s face and he’s almost swamped by shame, but Dirk is yanking the briefs down Dave’s hips enough to expose Dave’s cock and suddenly it doesn’t matter.

“Uncut,” Dirk comments immediately, satisfaction thick in his voice.

He takes his time sliding Dave’s underwear down his legs, his fingers caressing along the hypersensitized skin of his thighs until Dave is quivering with need and his dick is leaking without even being touched. Tucking the briefs into his back pocket (Dave considers objecting to the theft, but decides that’s an argument to be had later, when it won’t delay him getting a mouth on his dick), Dirk settles in, adjusting the position of Dave’s legs until they’re where he wants them—splayed wide to accommodate his shoulders.

Anxiety starts to creep into the ache of arousal as it sinks in for Dave how exposed he is, how he’s never let Dirk get anywhere close to as _close_ as he is right now. Not physically at least. His brain spins back to how this all started, the record scratch freeze frame “now you’re probably wondering how I got here,” and how Dirk described almost this exact scenario to him over the phone seven months ago and sent his life crashing down around him, for better or worse. Desperately, he reaches for Dirk, and Dirk takes his hand and presses it into his face, holds it against his cheek, tenderly kisses his palm. He encourages Dave to keep touching his face as his fingers trace gentle paths from Dave’s stomach to his thighs and his mouth lowers to the crows flying across Dave’s hip. Lips against skin, Dirk’s eyes close reverently, dark eyelashes fluttering as Dave’s thumb traces the blue shadowed skin under his lower lids. Anxiety is no longer the thing that’s making Dave’s heart pound.

It’s Dirk. It’s just Dirk.

Those eyes open partially when Dave brushes the bangs away from Dirk’s forehead so he can more clearly see Dirk’s mouth moving carefully along the line of his hip. Dave’s throat squeezes as Dirk immediately locks eyes with him, revealing the intense devotion swimming in gold beneath those half-closed, desire-heavy eyelids. Dirk’s face is softer than he’s ever seen; a content smile starts to form at the corner of his mouth, then gets sly as his gaze shifts mere centimeters to his right and Dave’s dick twitches automatically at the attention.

Either Dirk has slept with an uncircumcised guy before, or he’s done some research (probably both, knowing Dirk), because he seems to know exactly what he’s doing. He starts with a hand wrapped around the base of the shaft, then slides it up, gently pulling his foreskin over the exquisitely sensitive head. Drawing it back down, he drags the point of his tongue through the slit at the tip. Dave exhales a curse, dropping his head back onto the mattress.

Dirk makes a small responding sound in his throat, lips following after his tongue, mouthing the tip but taking his time actually wrapping his lips around the head. His tongue traces out the frenulum, dips into the space between Dave’s foreskin and shaft. The movements are so intentional that Dave is pretty sure Dirk must be literally attempting to map every millimeter of dick, committing it to memory. But when he picks his head up enough to give Dirk a _look,_ Dirk puts his whole damn mouth on it, sliding down until Dave can feel the back of Dirk’s tongue against the head, and hollows his cheeks. Dave’s head flops back uselessly, a guttural noise ripping out of his throat as Dirk sets a painfully slow starting pace. 

One of Dirk’s hands slides down to help stabilize his movements, with his thumb barely starting to press teasingly into Dave’s balls, and the other follows his open mouth up Dave’s cock as he drags his tongue up the length, curling it against the flare of the head. Dirk licks, then draws the tip into his mouth again, working just that with soft off and on suction and firm pressure from his tongue, increasing in intensity the deeper he takes Dave’s cock. Each time he pulls back to lavish his attention on the head, he pushes Dave further into his mouth on the next slide down, moves a little faster, exhaling heavily through his nose. Each time, Dave swears there can’t possibly be any part of his dick left to swallow down, that it’s completely surrounded by heat and wet and pressure from either his mouth or his hand or both. Yet Dirk still somehow keeps taking him deeper into his throat, making the tiniest strained moan each time. The sound vibrates against Dave’s skin, echoed by his own gasping cries. 

Dave is afraid to look up, but at the same time, honestly tempted to see Dirk’s well-advertised talent in practice. He picks the worst time—or the best time, hard to say—as Dirk’s lips touch the skin of Dave’s pelvis and he makes a gagged, triumphant noise that works his throat around all the dick he’s swallowed down. _Oh God_ , Dave is definitely going to lose it in seconds. Desperate to stave off his orgasm, he grabs a handful of Dirk’s hair (echoes of two months ago, when he came within literal inches of letting Dirk suck him off against his kitchen sink), and pulls—carefully. Dirk is only mildly stymied, but thankfully doesn’t seem to feel the need to try deepthroating him again, content to slow his roll and roll his tongue along the pulsing veins. 

It is easily one of the most intense blows of Dave’s life, and it is as terrifyingly skilled as anticipated, maybe even more so. Later, when he’s in a more cognizant state, he’ll think on the fact that there is no goddamn way any high school boy could stand up against this. That Dirk would own every one of their stupid idiot asses before the blowjob even started. That it’s a god damn shame all this talent was honed and wasted on boys who just wanted to get their dicks wet and didn’t give a shit about the mind or the heart attached to the mouth.

Dirk isn’t trying to just suck Dave’s brains out, it’s like he _coaxed_ them out within a minute and now he’s working on Dave’s fucking soul. This is everything Dirk promised. Or almost. Helpfully, Dave’s brain produces scene after scene of Dirk fucking him—the rough and dirty way Dirk described on the phone, swallowing his come and then flipping him over; the aching and tender way promised by Dirk’s soft expression as he told Dave he wanted to celebrate their shared birthday.

“Dirk—” Dave’s choked moan nearly drowns out the wet popping sound as Dirk pulls off, kisses down the shaft, cheek and nose smearing over the spit-slick length. He catches his breath against Dave’s inner thigh, trying to regulate back to something that isn’t panting, giving sporadic light strokes to Dave’s dick, as if he’s afraid it might go soft. Which is hilarious. Dave isn’t sure he will ever be flaccid again. He’s never felt so aware of his body, teetering right on the edge of coming.

Dave struggles to find his voice before Dirk can recover and resume his assault. After several failed attempts, he manages a hoarse, “Wait,” and Dirk immediately freezes, his whole body shot through with tension and suddenly wary eyes locked on Dave’s face, like he’s expecting Dave to say you know what, never mind, this was a bad idea after all, and kick him out on his ass. 

“No, no, it’s good, you’re good,” Dave amends hurriedly, guilt tightening his throat, because every bit of that fear is justified. “You’re really… it’s just, if you put your mouth back on my dick one more time I’m definitely gonna blow my load, and I’d, uh. I’d rather—” He stutters to a stop, swallows, averts his eyes in embarrassment. “I wanna come with you. The first time.” He throws an arm over his face to hide the fierce blush burning under his skin, letting his head drop back onto the bed. “Sorry, I’m—it’s stupid.” 

“It’s not.” Dirk’s voice is blown, raspy and thick. “That sounds… so good.” Dave feels him pull away from his thigh, cold air brushing over the wet skin as the warmth radiating off of Dirk disappears. Seconds later, there is a clicking noise that Dave peeks out at, seeing Dirk settled back on his knees, seemingly post cracking his jaw, massaging along his throat with his long fingers. It takes him a moment after he’s done rolling his neck to notice Dave watching him, but he smiles fondly when he catches him. His lips are swollen, still shiny from saliva until he drags the back of his hand across them, brows arching up roguishly. He’s a lot to look at.

Crawling forward and resettling along Dave’s side, Dirk nudges the arm out of the way to kiss Dave. He’s gentle, with his palm pressed against Dave’s bare chest, as Dave resettles his arm around Dirk’s neck, trying to draw him closer, wanting to feel his weight.

“You’re definitely wearing too many clothes,” he mumbles, and starts tugging at the back of Dirk’s stupidly tight t-shirt.

“Yeah, it’s not very fair to you, is it?” Dirk lets Dave gather a fistfull of his shirt, but shifts away to half-sit and actually pull it over his head on his own. 

Dave makes a noise of discontent at the sudden distance between them. “Hey,” he wheedles, “come make out with me for a while. I need a minute to let little Dave settle down. You know, after you tried to swallow him whole.”

“I _did_ swallow him whole,” Dirk corrects as he shifts over Dave, who very much appreciates the front row view of the muscles in his chest and arms working as he moves.

“My bad, my bad, you did that. And how is little Dirk?” Dave cups his hand over the very obvious bulge in Dirk’s jeans, and it jumps against his palm. “Oh, he’s rowdy.”

“God, you’re embarrassing.” Dirk gives a little shake of his head, but his exasperation is made less sincere by the smile he unsuccessfully tries to hide by pursing his lips, then pressing them into the corner of Dave’s mouth. “You finally gonna set him loose?” he asks, low and soft against Dave’s cheek. “I’ve been waiting three years for you to touch me.”

“Mmm,” Dave hums, thumbing open the button and dragging the zipper down slowly. He slides his hand into Dirk’s fly, massaging his dick through his boxers. 

“Dave,” Dirk exhales, already sounding half lost to just having Dave’s hand on him. How he can manage to contain so much emotion in a single word, in just Dave’s name, is… difficult to process. As Dave’s hand pushes in farther to cup Dirk’s balls and squeeze gently, his face drops close enough that Dave can feel every little stutter in his breathing, see the tension in his jaw loosen as his lips part. His eyes lock onto Dave, but they get darker, less focused, partially hidden by his lashes. The little furrow Dave loves appears and deepens in between his eyebrows, like he’s both annoyed by being teased through his underwear and trying desperately to focus on every point of contact between Dave’s hand and his cock. Dave arches his neck up to press his lips right on that spot, and Dirk allows that for about a second before tilting his head up to connect their mouths instead. 

Expressing his impatience nonverbally, Dirk all but shoves his tongue into Dave’s mouth, and Dave makes a chiding sound and pulls his hand back. Dirk swears against Dave’s lips, “Fuck, Dave, c’mon.”

“Patience, little boy,” Dave murmurs. “Say please.”

Dirk swallows audibly as his eyelids flutter closed, entire demeanor shifting to something significantly more passive. Softer, but still edged with a helpless and desperate frustration, he replies, “It’s been _three fucking years._ I _have_ been patient.” He lips at Dave pleadingly, pressing gently coercive kisses to everything in his reach. “Dave, please touch me.”

“That’s true,” Dave says soothingly, drawing a fingertip lightly up Dirk’s shaft and watching his whole body jerk. “You’re such a good boy.”

“Like shit I am,” Dirk breathes, too tense with anticipation to sound as flat as he would otherwise. 

Dave laughs. “No, you’re the fucking worst, but I’mma touch you anyway.” There is barely time for Dirk to hiss an encouraging, “Yes, fuck,” before Dave has his hand inside Dirk’s underwear and wrapped firmly around his cock.

Dirk’s breath hitches sharply then releases in a low moan, relief loosening up the stiff lines of his body. Possibly unconsciously, he presses his hips towards Dave’s hand, trying to eke out as much contact as he can. 

“Jesus Christ, I can barely fit my hand around it.” Dave rubs his thumb over the head, smearing around the fluid leaking at the tip and watching every tiny reaction on Dirk’s face. “I think I just solved the mystery of your absurd self-confidence.”

He gets a soft laugh for that, Dirk’s white teeth flashing in a smile before they press into his lower lip to bite back any noises in his throat. “You got me, Nancy Drew,” Dirk murmurs distractedly. “It’s been my huge cock all along. Case closed. Think you can puzzle out how to get my pants off next?”

“Fuck you,” Dave says mildly. “Do it yourself.”

Dirk rolls his eyes and rolls off of Dave, flopping back onto the mattress, back arched and hips lifted. His thumbs hook into the waists of his jeans and boxers and he shoves them down, dick springing free and curving over his stomach, drooling pre into his belly button.

Dave rolls over too, climbing over Dirk on hands and knees. Sitting back on his haunches, he shrugs off his shirt and tosses it on the floor. Now properly nuded up, he bends over Dirk to kiss him, trailing teasing fingers down his chest. They rise and fall with Dirk’s increasingly heavier breathing, picking up as his hands slide up the fine blond hairs on Dave’s thighs where they’re splayed on either side of Dirk’s stomach. It is obviously a nice view, because Dirk cannot stop staring, no longer paying attention to Dave’s attitude, only openly admiring every last inch of his body. 

Dave sits up again, so he can see Dirk’s face properly. His borderline worshipful gaze is kind of a trip, but more than that, it reminds Dave how deeply Dirk is invested, how vulnerable he is, and how easily Dave could fuck this thing up and hurt him.

He must stare for a little too long, because Dirk tilts his head quizzically. “What’s up?” He’s still running his hands up and down Dave’s thighs, almost like he’s doing it unconsciously.

“Nothing.” Dave leans down, cups his face and kisses him. “I love you.”

Dirk’s exhale gets caught in his lungs, shudders out. “I don’t think you fully know what hearing you say that does to me,” he whispers, fingers curling around Dave’s hips. Pushing up off the mattress with his shoulder blades to meet Dave’s mouth again, he presses his reply into it with painful tenderness. “I love you too.”

Dave does know, and he tries to show that with his lips and his hands because he knows words won’t do it, touching Dirk like he’s priceless porcelain and kissing him like he might die if he can’t. “I want you to fuck me,” he breathes into Dirk’s mouth.

“Yes,” Dirk agrees thickly, like the words he wants to use to reply are too viscous to slide from his overclocked brain to his clumsy tongue. With a mindless rush of desire, as Dave’s words settle in and take root, the fingers on his hips tighten almost to the point of pain, digging into his skin. They push him backwards, the head of Dirk’s cock bumping meaningfully against his ass, punching the air out of Dave’s lungs as he continues in a barely coherent murmur punctuated by attempts to devour Dave’s mouth, “Yes, yes, yes, God fucking yes, let me fuck you, Dave.” 

“I’m gonna,” Dave laughs breathlessly, his fingers tangled in Dirk’s hair. “There’s lube and condoms in the nightstand.”

“Got it.” Dirk gives him a lingering kiss as he sits up, wrapping his arms around Dave’s waist. For a few moments, they are both distracted from the proposed agenda, tongues and limbs tangled, but eventually Dirk tries to extract himself to reach for the nightstand. Dave makes an objecting noise, holding on tighter with his arms draped around Dirk’s neck. Dirk huffs out an affectionate laugh, but sets a firm hand against Dave’s collarbone and presses space between them.

“Where you goin’?” Dave asks plaintively, drawing his hand along Dirk’s forearm and rolling his hips against the cock under him to try to win back some attention. God, why isn’t it inside him already?

Oh right. That’s where Dirk is going.

“Did you already forget?” Dirk replies as if reading Dave’s thoughts, leaning away and fumbling for the drawer handle. “Neither of us want me to go in dry.” 

Impatiently, Dave slides his hands all along Dirk’s stretched muscles, trying to kiss at his chest and side and shoulder, definitely hindering the process rather than helping it. Dirk grunts in frustration as his fingers close on the bottle only to nearly drop it when Dave starts to suck a hickey against Dirk’s ribcage.

“Mm, I guess,” Dave murmurs absently, still trying to see if he can map Dirk’s pectorals with his tongue, rocking his hips more intently.

“Dave, please,” Dirk says, not quite sharply but more commanding than his voice has been. The irritation has seeped in after a few unsuccessful attempts to fish out anything while stretched out awkwardly with one hand, zero visibility, and Dave acting as the worst obstacle imaginable. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to grab a fucking condom like this, dude. I’m about to give up and raw you.” 

Dave is honestly so horny that he seriously considers the idea for a hot second before common sense seeps back into his lust-addled brain. “Okay, okay,” he says petulantly, leaning back with his hands held up, palms out. “I guess that would make me a pretty bad role model.”

“I have had a lot of sex, Dave, I don’t really need a role model at this point.” Putting his abs to impressive use and making Dave’s open palms twitch hungrily, Dirk leans further and hums victoriously as his fingers close on the prize. He slams the drawer closed with a loud bang, expressing his displeasure with it before sitting back up, condom tucked between two fingers, presenting it to Dave as proof of success with his eyebrows proudly arched. 

“That’s _why_ you need a role model, you self-aggrandizing slut. Do you not listen when I talk like, ever?”

“Nah, not really. Anyway, how ‘bout you roll this on my model.” Dirk smirks, teeth flashing briefly in stark contrast to his skin. “And I’ll spread your ass.” 

“Are you sure you wanna sass me and then invite me near your junk?” Dave retorts, but he’s already ripping the condom open and scooting back so he can get at Dirk’s erection. He’s tempted to show off by putting it on with his mouth, but that only works for him about 75% of the time, and he would hate to ruin the moment by gagging on dick. He rolls it on with his hands instead, sliding them down its length a few times for good measure once it’s on and feeling high on the way he makes Dirk hiss and twitch.

Dirk watches him like a hawk, hands once again returning to Dave’s hips, drawing little circles against his skin. As soon as he’s wrapped, he grips Dave harder and pushes him over, rolling with him and wrestling between his legs. He pulls Dave’s thighs over his own kneeling ones, ass on his lap, the slope forcing Dave’s hips up and splaying them wide enough that he can feel the stretch in his pelvis. Still not enough contact, in Dave’s opinion. He attempts to rectify the problem by pawing over Dirk’s stomach, wiggling his fingers towards Dirk’s jaw but only snagging air as the distance becomes too much for his reach. 

“I’ll be right there, I promise,” Dirk murmurs, snapping the top of the lube. The sound of gel squirting onto Dirk’s palm triggers a complex pavlovian mix of arousal, anticipation, and the last inklings of uncertainty. He’s painfully vulnerable in this position, stretched out on his back and unable to hold onto Dirk with anything but legs wrapped around his hips. This is his last chance to back out, he thinks, but he doesn’t want to. God, he really doesn’t want to. His body starts to shake, and Dirk strokes comfortingly down his stomach with his clean, empty hand before lubing those fingers up and sneaking them between his legs. His touch brushes against Dave’s taint, slick and colder than the air around them, and Dave exhales against the increasing ache to be filled, then inhales sharply as Dirk steadily presses a finger into him to coax him open.

Keeping his promise, Dirk wipes his lube-slick palm on the sheets and bends over Dave’s body, trailing kisses along his shoulders and neck as he drags the air out out Dave’s lungs once again with a second finger. After a moment to acclimate, Dirk curls them and presses in with his fingertips, stroking them inside of Dave in an obvious search for his prostate—which he manages to find in literal seconds. 

Dave arches off the bed with a sound that is almost a scream. “God, fuck me, please, God—”

Dirk chuckles against Dave’s throat, coming off as a cocky little shit despite how similarly desperate a state he is obviously in. “We did a whole bit about how thick my cock is, Dave. I feel like you could probably use a little more prep.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about. I don’t give a shit, just fuck me now, okay? I need it now. Dirk? I n—”

“Settle down,” Dirk interrupts, firmly but not unkindly. Dave lapses into silence, or at least wordlessness, as Dirk works three fingers in and fucks him slowly on them, dragging against his insides, forcing even more piteous noises out of his throat and making his dick leak so much that it drips down his stomach. He’s sure his pleading starts right back up, but he’s a little out of his mind and can only focus on what is happening to his ass, particularly when Dirk pulls his fingers out of it. 

“Dirk, I’m ready, c’mon, I’m ready, I’m definitely—” Words clog his throat as Dirk guides the lube-slick tip of his dick to his rim and starts to slowly press in until the head is partially in and _Jesus Christ is he actually ready holy shit—_

His face must express the sudden onset of concern and discomfort, because Dirk immediately pulls out despite Dave clutching at him and squeezes even more lube onto his dick while kissing soothingly all over his face. 

“I got you,” Dirk murmurs as he tries again, even more slowly this time, the excess lube dripping out of Dave’s ass and down his tailbone. But it is more than enough to allow Dirk to slide in smoothly now, adjusting their positions ever so slightly with one of Dave’s knees hooked over the crook of his arm and pushed towards his chest to get a better angle to fill him up completely.

“Ah _hh_ , fuck,” Dave breathes. His hands move over the planes of Dirk’s back and shoulders, up to his neck and into his hair as though he's trying to memorize it all by feel.

“Dave,” Dirk says intensely, head bowed, eyes closed. Like he’s overcome. Worshipful. Tears burn at the back of Dave’s eyes. He strokes Dirk’s hair and knows, definitively, conclusively, that he would do anything for this boy, to protect him, to keep him safe. That he would die for him, without hesitation. He might die right now, just from this.

Exhaling shakily, Dirk’s eyelids twitch as he clearly tries to adjust to the tight heat of Dave wrapped around him. He is perfectly still, overly cautious, but his eyes open as Dave digs into his hair with his fingers and he regards Dave’s watery eyes with deep compassion and understanding. It is overwhelming how much love Dirk can express just by looking at him, like he’s concentrated every second of devotion over the course of the last three years into those amber irises.

Dave pulls at the back of Dirk’s head until their foreheads are touching. “Dirk,” he says in a way that sounds like a plea.

“Can I—” Dave doesn't let him finish the question, answers it by giving a tiny encouraging rock of his hips and kisses Dirk’s corresponding gasp. Permission granted, Dirk rolls into him with slow careful thrusts and now it is Dave’s turn to close his eyes, since they were going sightless anyway, spun back into his skull with how fucking good it is, how bad he’s wanted this. It isn't nearly as long as Dirk has, but it’s been too long all the same, and his teeth bite hard into his lower lip, muffling little noises building in his throat.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Dirk breathes at him, licking Dave’s teeth at the point where they have dug in to try to work inside Dave’s mouth. The rolling of his hips picks up speed in increments. Dave throws a hand down to Dirk’s ass, to feel how fluidly he’s moving with each thrust, his muscles working under his smooth skin. “You’re— _fuck,_ Dave, you feel so good.”

Dave mumbles a nonverbal response, pushing his mouth clumsily against Dirk’s. Dirk kisses him back but pulls away, dropping Dave’s knee and shifting his weight onto his forearms instead of his palms so every point along their bodies touch. His weight presses Dave into the mattress, triggering some kind of lizard brain response that tells Dave he’s safe and loved.

Hands slip under Dave’s head, supporting it, tangling into his hair. Dirk nips Dave’s upturned chin and his heavy exhales ghost over Dave’s skin. When Dave manages to get his eyes open enough to see, Dirk is hovering above him, just watching him. 

Dave blinks slowly, petting Dirk’s back and shoulders absently. “Hi,” he rasps.

“Hey, sorry, I—” Dirk almost laughs, making his rhythm stutter before he catches it, slows it down to little nudges. “‘I’m just trying to memorize your face.”

“My face isn’t going anywhere.”

Dirk hums affirmatively and dips down to suck a spot on Dave’s neck. “I’ve never seen you make these expressions before, so I’m...” He trails off into a new hickey attempt. “I have to keep it in my head forever. Fucking you for the first time.”

“Dirk…” Dave wraps his arms around Dirk’s neck and head, cradling him protectively like a child. “That’s so gay,” he whispers.

Dirk snorts into Dave’s neck. “Shut the fuck up.” He pairs that rejoinder with a slow grind over Dave’s prostate, which is effective in that it wipes out Dave’s ability to form coherent sentences. He keeps on like that, drawing increasingly louder noises from Dave’s throat, like he’s punishing him for being cogent enough to sass and trying to correct his own oversight in allowing it to happen in the first place. 

“Dave,” Dirk says thickly, kissing the shell of Dave’s ear. His thrusts pause almost teasingly, his breathing loud and rough and warm against Dave’s neck. “I want to make you come.” 

Dave whines, his hips canting in involuntary response. “Please,” he manages.

Grinding him back into the bed, Dirk shifts into a pace that is both faster and harder, less on tempo and more mindless. Dave throws his legs around Dirk’s waist, heels bouncing into Dirk’s ass each time he snaps forward, like he is pulling him deeper. They find their ideal rhythm instantly, perfectly matched in their writhing, in their too fast breathing into each other’s mouths. Their bodies are so close to each other, pressed into one another, moving together, sliding, slick with sweat, with wet kisses, with a handful of tears. 

Every inch of Dave’s skin is so hot and every part of Dirk that’s touching him matches his heat, so that he starts to lose track of where the boundaries between their bodies actually are. The only reminder is the jolt of steadily building tension in his gut each time Dirk’s cockhead drags over his prostate. It’s building to a crest as Dirk reaches between them, and he barely gets a hand around Dave before he comes with Dirk moaning against his shoulder. Dirk’s muscles shudder and his rolling movement stutters to stillness as his cock pulses through his own orgasm, buried deep inside of Dave. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is written and just needs editing, fourth and final chapter isn't finished yet but we're pretty close so keep an eye out! this has been fun y'all sorry it took over a year for them to actually fuck we appreciate ur patience :*


	3. if you're horny let's do it, ride it, my pony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter brought to you under the exceedingly rare circumstance of both your authors existing in the same state/county/city/apartment at the same time, aka the most fortuitous and joyful of times
> 
> aka i'm staying with laura and her gf for my birthday
> 
> IT'S GOOD SHIT i love her  
> just wanted to share that fsr idk i'm tired here's a bunch more porn and also like, some feelings i guess??????????
> 
> \--xoxo kelsey/witchofspaz

Well.

That just happened. Can’t take it back now. As the afterglow fades, Dave stares at the ceiling, feeling Dirk’s naked warmth against his side, and tries not to focus on the very real possibility that one day Dirk might hate him for this, and worse, he’ll deserve it. Even if he never does, there’s no small number of people who would absolutely, definitely, without a doubt hate him right fucking now if they knew what he was up to, and with whom. His imagination helpfully plays out the potential consequences should one of those people find out (losing his job, losing his apartment because he can’t pay rent after getting fired, not being allowed to see Dirk anymore, losing the only real family he’s ever known because the Egberts will never speak to him again, dying alone because no one will ever love him when they know what a worthless piece of shit he really is) until he’s dizzy from it.

Ah. Dave is abruptly pulled out of his guilt spiral as Dirk releases a huge, satisfied sigh. He knows his shame is well-founded, but it’s hard to sincerely regret what he’s done with Dirk all but literally radiating contentment next to him, mostly asleep with one arm slung possessively across Dave’s stomach. This might just be a self-serving justification for giving in to his worst instincts, but Dirk's not exactly the most well-adjusted kid in the normal course of things, and anything that gets him this relaxed and out of his head can’t be counted as a complete evil in Dave’s book. Dave kisses the top of his head where it’s resting on his shoulder, drawing a little sleepy murmur from him in response. The arm around Dave’s waist tightens as if by reflex, but Dirk doesn’t otherwise stir. Sex is apparently one of the very few things that can shut down his overactive brain. No meditative exercises required.

Dave brushes a finger lightly over the dark, almost bruise-like shadows under his eyes, traces around the thinner skin along the top of Dirk’s cheekbone. Its path dips into Dirk’s temple and across the spot at the center of his forehead where all of the creases would converge and merge with his brows, were he not currently completely peaceful. Dave’s touch slides down the ridge of his nose to the bow of his lips, then maps those too, carefully, so as to not wake Dirk from his sleep. It’s clear he has badly needed it. 

This moment is so precious and so fragile that Dave almost fights the way his breathing has subconsciously matched Dirk’s, the weight increasing on his own eyelids as their chests rise and fall together. 

But he can admit that it is something that they _both_ badly needed.

\---------------------------------

Dave blinks into blurry wakefulness and finds himself on his side with Dirk curled around his back. The digital clock on his nightstand reads 9:27; he thinks he’s been out for at least a couple hours, but he doesn’t even remember falling asleep. Based on Dirk’s breathing, Dave is pretty sure he’s also awake, and that hunch is confirmed when he stirs slightly and the arm around his waist tightens its grasp.

“Morning, sunshine,” an obnoxiously self-satisfied voice purrs in his ear.

“Is it morning?”

“No.” Dirk lifts his head and looks at the clock over Dave’s shoulder. “Yeah, that’s PM. Still our birthday for a few more hours.”

“Oh. I knew that.”

“You slept that good though?” Dirk’s question is layered thick with amusement and pride, and paired with some not entirely unnoticeable presses of his hips into Dave’s ass. “You feel well rested?”

“Obviously you do,” Dave says tartly. “Your well-restedness is poking me in the back. Mother fuck, I forgot how horny teenagers are.” He’s still a little groggy, but can’t help an encouraging murmur when Dirk’s lips tickle his neck.

“I’d love to remind you,” Dirk offers pseudo-kindly, petting hungrily down Dave’s chest and teasingly sliding his fingers through the trail of blond hair running down his stomach. Sucking along the stretch of skin between Dave’s ear and his shoulder, Dirk pushes his body harder against Dave’s back, and his extremely erect dick nestles right into Dave’s asscrack. God dammit. “Though I’m not sure you’re going to be able to keep up.”

“Me either. I turned thirty today, you know.” He wiggles just so, and the friction makes Dirk gasp against his ear. “Practically geriatric.”

“I’ve heard that with age comes experience.”

“Does it? You’re only eighteen and I’m pretty sure you’ve fucked more dudes than I have.”

“Yeah, but I had to get on your level in a shorter span of time. Now I’m done fucking dudes other than you.” Dirk speaks his words softly and directly into Dave’s neck, making Dave’s whole body shiver. The hand slipping downwards on his stomach reaches its destination, index and thumb ensnaring the base of Dave’s still soft cock like a ring, squeezing as it twitches and reacts. It isn’t completely unusual for Dave to fuck more than once in a night, but it has been a while that he’s been interested enough to go for it, particularly so soon after. It would have been nice to have a full night of sleep, but...

His body seem to be more focused on other things—Dirk barely shifts the circle of his fingers up enough to get two more fingers wrapped around Dave’s soft dick before he’s stiffening up in Dirk’s hand. Coaxing and encouraging, the touches get firmer until Dave is as hard as the cock still grinding against his ass, making soft noises as he’s driven to full consciousness with Dirk tugging at his foreskin like he wants to make Dave blow his load as soon as possible. 

Dirk hums low with desire, making all of the hair on Dave’s neck stand on end as he feels it vibrate against every part of their connected bodies. 

“ _Fff_ uck me,” Dave hisses mindlessly as Dirk twists his wrist on a stroke and squeezes down to the base of his dick. 

“You think you can take it again?” Dirk asks, self-satisfaction corrupting the earnest tone he puts on the question. “Wasn’t too much for you the first time?”

Arrogant little prick. “You’re—” Dave catches the word on a strangled noise, as Dirk’s hand moves to his balls. “Go suck your own giant dick. Choke on it.”

“Seems like a lot of effort when you’re right here.” Dirk shifts around behind Dave, apparently freeing his other arm from whatever awkward position it was in while they were spooning, because it snakes under the pillows and his hand grasps Dave’s neck. He squeezes it lightly, subtly threatening, before stroking his fingers upwards to Dave’s mouth. With the obvious intent of making Dave gasp, Dirk reaches behind Dave’s balls and strokes over his taint, just barely brushing against his rim. As soon as Dave’s mouth opens, Dirk forces three fingers between his lips, pressing into his tongue and hooking into his cheek as the gasp becomes a series of wet, strangled noises. “C’mon, Dave, show me how it’s done.” 

He obeys without question. Losing the ability to talk back seems to have immediately removed even the will to do so, as Dave slips into the oddly peaceful and unusually compliant headspace he occupies when a partner he trusts takes charge. Closing his lips around Dirk’s fingers and sucks at them clumsily, little whimpers building in the back of his throat.

Dirk is kind enough to speak for him, murmuring darkly against his ear. “Is that the best you can do, Dave? I’m not sure I want you near my cock if you’re struggling with just my fingers.” He punctuates by pushing them deeper into Dave’s mouth, touching the back of his tongue as Dave simultaneously gags and moans loudly. They ease up and slide out with a slick noise, Dirk wiping the sticky, spit-coated fingers against Dave’s chin and throat as Dave pants for air. 

Though Dave’s cock was seemingly forgotten while Dirk focused on fucking Dave’s mouth with his fingers, his attention is back on it now, and he rubs his palm all over the sensitive head until Dave is mewling again, shifting ineffectually away, almost overstimulated.

“Please…” 

“Please what?” 

Dave doesn’t really have an answer beyond the pathetic noises he’s making, but Dirk won’t stop touching the head of his dick and it’s getting to be too much, so he rolls onto his stomach, trapping Dirk’s hand under his hips to keep it from moving. It works, and Dirk laughs behind him, tugging his hands out from beneath Dave’s body without too much difficulty. 

Dirk’s warm weight is strangely comforting across Dave’s back as he leans over him and stretches out his arm towards his newly established enemy: the bedside table drawer. It takes him less time to find the condoms at this angle, and riding the high of his success, he grabs a handful of them, dumping them in a hopeful little pile on the table.

“Mm, I want to fuck you like this,” Dirk murmurs, palms rubbing firm circles on Dave’s shoulders. It feels so nice, nicer even when Dirk’s hands knead down his back, over his ass, down to his thighs, which he willingly spreads with little encouragement. “Is that cool?”

“Yeah,” Dave pants, shifting his hips weakly, trying to get some friction on his dick. 

“Hey, hold up.” Dirk cracks a palm against Dave’s ass, not quite punishingly. “You made me wait two months, you can wait two fucking minutes to get your dick touched.”

“Mnngh,” Dave acquiesces, his face burning with shame, and stills his squirming with some difficulty.

“Lift your hips for me. I don’t want you rutting against the bed again until I’m fucking you into it.” 

Dave tries, a little pathetically, until Dirk takes pity on him, big hands taking hold of his hips to position him on his knees, with his ass in the air and his head and shoulders still resting on the bed.

“Good,” Dirk praises, presumably settling into a kneel behind Dave. With his face buried in the sheets, he’s somewhat limited in his perception of what’s happening; he has to rely on sounds and sensations, like the dip of weight and warmth from Dirk, the click of the lube cap, the tear of foil. Dirk’s lube-covered hand rests on the small of Dave’s back as he leans forward and says, in a voice like velvet-coated steel, “What do you think, Dave? I could be nice, open you up real slow.” He grazes a slicked finger over Dave’s sensitive opening, and Dave shudders violently against the bed. “Or I could just... ” The fat head of Dirk’s cock replaces his finger, and he lets his unfinished sentence hang in the air like a threat.

Dave licks his lips, trying to decide if he should voice what he’s thinking or if it’s a really stupid idea. In the end, thoughts clouded by lust, he goes for the stupid idea. “You already prepped me earlier,” he rasps, “so, uh, you probably could. If you wanted.” 

“Is that what _you_ want, Dave?” Dirk snorts, grasping his dick and slapping it against Dave’s ass with a wet noise that mixes with a similar sound in Dave’s throat. “You that impatient for my cock? You want me to just fuck you open?”

“Yeah, isn’t that what I said?” Dave slurs carelessly.

“Say it again and I’ll consider.”

Dave huffs into the mattress, some drool starting to spread in a small damp circle under his face. “Fuck me,” he whines.

“Sure,” Dirk agrees pleasantly, squirting what sounds like a solid amount of additional lube on his dick. The head presses into Dave again moments later, blunt and slippery, and Dave bites his own arm as Dirk moves fractionally, pushing in so slowly that the anticipation of being filled is much worse than the actual stretch. 

The intensity is different this time, maybe because he can’t see Dirk’s face, maybe because the mood is less romantic, less desperate. It isn’t that Dave can’t feel how devoted Dirk is, because it is obvious in every touch of his hands, every whisper. But this is a Dirk who is finally confident that his feelings are reciprocated, less scared of fucking everything up and more willing to press the boundaries that he has hesitated with in the past. It makes him almost diabolical, tripping on his own power as he builds up to a fast rhythm with one hand gripping Dave’s thigh. It serves as leverage when his hips snap into Dave and he grabs a fistful of Dave’s hair with his other hand, pulls until Dave lets out a helpless groan as it yanks his head back.

Dirk leans over him to breathe hotly against his ear. “You’re done getting fucked by dudes other than me, too, aren’t you?” he says, breathless and throaty, pounding him so hard and fast that Dave almost screams. “Just me. Forever. Right?” When the only response he gets is desperate whining, Dirk draws his hand back to slap Dave’s ass again, hard this time. Over the responding yelp, Dirk issues his demand. “Answer me, Dave.”

“A-a-ah… what?” Dave’s thoughts are as hazy as his vision.

“Just me?” 

“Yeah. Yes. Oh, fuck, _Dirk._ ”

“Good,” Dirk purrs, and the praise makes Dave’s chest glow with warmth and his dick throb in pulsing reminders of how egregiously little attention it’s receiving.

“Ah, fuck, please—”

“Please what?”

“Please touch me,” Dave moans indistinctly, pressing his face into his arm.

“I can’t understand you, Dave,” Dirk says sharply, rocking shallowly to grind the head of his cock over and over Dave’s prostate, like that’s going to help him speak clearly. “Say it again. Enunciate.”

Dave picks his head up enough to gasp out, “ _Please_ touch me, Dirk, I need to come.”

“Good boy,” Dirk purrs darkly. The reversal of their positions is set in stark contrast by that last word and it twists the air in his lungs. Where Dave might normally bristle at being called ‘boy’ by a man who has just barely earned that title, he is too far gone to do anything other than add it to the stack of feelings pushing him towards the brink. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need,” Dirk says softly. He pauses, draws it out, until there is no sound in the room but the slap of skin on skin and Dave’s soft grunts. “Eventually.”

‘Eventually’ apparently means until Dave comes from prostate stimulation alone. Dirk lets his weight sink onto Dave’s back until he can’t support Dirk’s draped body while his hips are lifted and his spine is arched. They both slide down, thrust by thrust, until Dave is nearly swallowed by the mattress. It creaks in protest, with the loud and rapid noise of springs bouncing blending with the other sounds. All the comfort his aching cock gets is the not quite sufficient stimulation from rubbing against the sheets of his bed as Dirk fucks him like he’s fulfilling a promise.

Dave’s cries are muffled in the bed, and his orgasm hits him hard and sudden, spilling his come over his own sheets and stomach. Dirk pounds him into it mercilessly, smearing it everywhere as Dave whines from the friction on his over-sensitized dick.

Rolling off, Dirk flops onto his back, chest heaving, dick spent at some point while Dave wasn’t aware enough to process it. Dave stays where he’s left, lying in his own mess, too exhausted to move until he feels Dirk’s hands on his shoulders, gently easing him onto his back and out of the wet spot.

“I think you literally fucked my brains out,” Dave manages, almost intelligibly.

Dirk snags a wad of tissues from the box next to the bed and tenderly mops up Dave’s stomach while smattering kisses over bits of skin. “Told you I was good.” 

Dave is too wiped to give him the dick punch he deserves for that. Instead he lets Dirk pull him into his side, cuddled in close even though they’re both overheated and sticky with sweat and other, less PG fluids. “Did you? I can’t remember, you only mention it every five minutes,” he jabs half-heartedly.

“Must be your old age making you forgetful.” His breathing is deep and slow and Dave presses his ear to Dirk’s chest to listen to it and the rhythmic beating of his heart. At some point, he must drift off, because he loses time until Dirk gently shifts away, prompting his eyes to open reluctantly.

“Mmm, what’s up?” He brushes—quick glance at the clock—some fifteen minutes of sleep out of his eyes. “Everything cool?”

“Yeah, but the condom is still on my dick and it’s becoming gross,” Dirk replies with a handful of tissues as he cleans himself off. “Neither of us is going to have fun with all of this semen once it starts getting crusty. We should shower.”

“Later,” Dave says, tugging Dirk back down as soon as he’s done and snuggling up against his side again. “Still tired.” And he likes this, just being close with Dirk. Feeling his breathing, his steady heartbeat, his body heat, with no guilt or anxiety. His eyes close and sleep threatens once again before memory jolts him halfway upright.

Fuck! “Shit, I almost forgot. I got you something.”

“Damn, Dave, what more could you give me? I already have everything I want,” Dirk murmurs in a tone caught between joking and horny _again._ Playfully, Dirk’s fingers drum against Dave’s ass, obviously tempted but managing some restraint, for once.

Ignoring that “totally not an invitation unless you’re into it in which case it’s definitely an invitation” invitation, Dave gently pushes him away and climbs out of bed. Noting his nakedness as the chilled night air hits bare skin, he absentmindedly snags Dirk’s shirt off the floor and pulls it over his head. Thus attired, he retrieves a clumsily wrapped package from the top drawer of his dresser and returns to the bed to present it to Dirk almost shyly.

“It’s just a stupid thing, but I thought maybe you’d like it.” He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth self-consciously. “Happy birthday.”

Brows furrowed, Dirk holds the present gingerly on his lap and looks like he’s having an inner debate with himself, sending Dave into a minor panic that teens these days think birthday presents are totally lame or something.

“I didn’t know whether we were doing presents…” Dirk admits finally, sounding apologetic, and Dave releases a relieved breath.

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo, I wasn’t expecting anything. Anyhow, you did make me dinner, and you even let me eat almost half of it before you dragged me to bed and fucked me stupid. Twice.” He fluffs Dirk’s sex-mussed hair. “Just open it.”

A soft smile plays on Dirk’s lips before he turns to the gift and delicately tears open the paper. When he uncovers it enough to see the shitty “It’s a BOY!” blue camo pattern emblazoned with cartoony drawings of various sports balls, _(Put your photo here!)_ paper still in the insert of the front cover, he glances up at Dave, head tilted in confusion. 

Dave only gives him an expectant look in reply, and suddenly something clicks. 

“Oh my god,” Dirk says, and immediately, excitedly flips the cover open. He makes a gratifying choked noise as he’s greeted by the very first photo in the album: Dave at thirteen, taking a self portrait in the bathroom mirror of his childhood apartment, looking both way too serious and too aware of how stupid it is to be taking bathroom selfies with a 50mm.

“Oh my fucking god,” Dirk says again, more awed and adoring as he tears through the pages, flipping so fast that Dave is pretty sure he isn’t actually looking at them. Reaching the end, he slams the book closed, inhaling deeply, hand resting reverently on the cover. 

“Okay,” he continues, like he’s steadying himself. He opens it again, makes that same choked noise at the thirteen-year-old Dave selfie, then flips to the next page much more slowly. “I’m going fuckin’ mental, dude. This is so much,” he muses, absently touching a page featuring seventeen-year-old Dave. “Shit, you’re so hot. Look at all of those piercings. I would have been up on you like a rabid animal. We would have been the grossest, cutest couple in school.” His eyes are enthralled and a little too shiny. “I would have taken you to prom and bought you a promise ring and written you elaborately folded notes with raps about our love during every class. I’d have made out with you in the stairways between periods until the teachers yelled at us. I’d have lost my virginity to you under the bleachers. I’d be tagging every single bathroom with our initials inside of hearts and dicks.”

“So I guess your name written on bathroom stalls is a universal constant,” Dave riffs, to cover his embarrassment that he’s sincerely touched by that adoring litany of hypothetical courtship.

Dirk _almost_ looks shamefaced, but lands on amused instead. “I’m banking on the way that it seems to pique your interest also being a universal constant.”

“Wait,” Dave rejoins with a breathless laugh, “in this hypothetical situation, are you inscribing our monograms on bathrooms all over the school _before_ we’re actually going steady?”

“Before and during, obviously. I’m not expecting you to fall into my arms as soon as I’m like, ‘Hey.’ I would still have to win you over.” Dirk’s tone suggests that Dave should not have needed this point clarified.

Dave raises one eyebrow. “And going low-key _Fatal Attraction_ on me strikes you as the way to get there?”

“I know you love attention.” Dirk’s eyes are sly and knowing. “I think it would make you curious.”

“Or scared.”

“Scared and horny,” Dirk counters, reaching over and lightly, playfully shoving Dave away. “Sounds in line with my usual methods.” 

“At least you’re self-aware,” Dave says skeptically.

“You’re just negging me because I flustered you by _accurately_ describing our hypothetical, impossible teenage romance,” Dirk dismisses, flipping the page absently. He almost turns past it after giving it a cursory glance, then pauses. Then he pulls the album close to his face, peering at it for several seconds like he’s Tom Hanks trying to read the secret code hidden in the Mona Lisa’s rack, before dropping it onto the bed and getting immediately in Dave’s grill. “Stick out your fucking tongue,” he demands, reaching for Dave’s chin. 

“I don’t have it anymore,” Dave laughs. “You would have noticed it by now if I did, dumbass.” He sticks his tongue out anyway as Dirk’s fingers curl on his jaw. “See, not even a scar.”

Looking like he has half a mind to lick Dave’s tongue to see if he can somehow taste the remnants of the piercing from the photo, Dirk murmurs, “Shit, that’s so cute of you. Did you take it out because it was undermining your teacherly authority?”

Dave shrugs. “Private school parents tend to be kinda conservative. And I was done with pointless teenage rebellion by then, so I guess I didn’t feel like I needed all the shitty bling anymore.”

“Oh yeah? What were you rebelling against?” Dirk looks thoughtful, tilts his head at Dave consideringly, then appends, “... Or who?”

“No one that gave a shit,” Dave says casually, and turns the page for Dirk. The next page features a photo of Dave flat on his face on the floor of a crowded campus hallway (still recognizable as Derse Academy, even fifteen years later), tiny wheels visible in the heels of his sneakers. “Oh, John took this one. Mr. Egbert the younger,” he clarifies. John teaches bio, and Dirk was in his class last year. “Asshole. I skinned up my face really bad.”

“Didn’t do any permanent damage,” Dirk says sweetly, kissing Dave’s cheek. 

“Not on the outside,” Dave replies mournfully, holding a hand over his heart. “But it ruined Heelys for me forever.”

“God, what a loss. The only worthwhile piece of fashion from the early aughts.” Dirk mournfully shakes his head. “Gotta say your ass looks good in distressed denim though.”

“My ass is flatter than day-old Mountain Dew, Dirk. It doesn’t look good in anything.”

“I’m going to have to respectfully disagree. It definitely looks good on my dick.” The satisfaction in Dirk’s voice is thick enough to chew.

Dave laughs reluctantly, shaking his head. “I know I already gave it up, but I feel like your courtship game is slipping.”

“Mm, I’ll try to get my head back in it,” Dirk says in a too-clever voice, eyebrow raised and mouth fractionally curving like he is challenging Dave to call out his innuendo.

“I’m breaking up with you,” Dave says flatly. 

There is a muscle at the corner of Dirk’s eye that gives the briefest, subconscious twitch, not quite pronounced enough to be called a flinch, before he leans into the bit and presses his lips against Dave’s. “After I fucked you so good, you came just from prostate stim?” Dave can feel the proud, upturned curl of his mouth before he adds, “You should be taking my ass to Red Lobster, babe.”

Dave lays a smacking kiss on Dirk before leaning back to look at him seriously. “Should I? For real. I know I could literally get fired for dating you, but I feel all kinds of skeezy keeping you in the shadows like my mistress or some shit. It’s lame, and you deserve better.”

“Oh,” Dirk says, trying to balance on the mood shift. “I mean, for _real_ for real?” he mulls, pausing thoughtfully. “I’m actually more into Olive Garden.” 

Dave has to laugh as Dirk continues, “I don’t know, Dave. I just want to be your boyfriend.” (Even though it’s not the first time Dirk has used that word, it suddenly squeezes at Dave’s heart, making him feel like a teenager again. _Hot damn, he just called himself my boyfriend_ , like it’s all new to him, terrifying and exciting in equal parts.) “I want to do nice shit for you and make you feel good, and I don’t need to be public to do that. It doesn’t have to be public until you’re ready.” Dirk shrugs. “I have zero interest in being your social and professional downfall. I really don’t want you to feel skeezy about it, because I love you and I’ll do whatever I need to keep you safe and happy.

“Plus, you know, it’s kinda hot sneaking around with you. It’s like, all the sordid excitement of being your side piece, but with the security of knowing I’m actually the only one you’re fucking with.” His eyes cast over Dave’s body and he bites the tip of his tongue before adding, “I get to see you all buttoned up and authoritative at school, knowing I’m going to be hitting that four hours later.”

“I’ve never been buttoned up,” Dave says irrelevantly. When Dirk gives him a flat look, eyebrow raised, he retaliates with a totally mature and adult shove and barrels past it. “I’m not exactly saying let’s tell the world, ‘cause I like my job and it’s not like it has to be secret forever. But it might be nice. Going out with you.” He rakes a self-conscious hand through his hair. “Like maybe a couple towns over where we won’t get seen by nobody we know, which is a whole other kinda shady but apparently a kind of shady you’re into, ya freak.”

“I am so down for driving an hour to an undisclosed Olive Garden location to share unlimited breadsticks with you,” Dirk replies softly, looking several shades of flattered despite the insult. Reaching over, he carefully smoothes out a wayward strand of Dave’s hair. “I’d love to go out sometime.”

“Okay, cool.” What a lame response. Dave feels oddly flustered. “Dirk? You do make me feel good. You get that, right?”

The flat of Dirk’s hand rest against his cheek, caressing his skin with a thumb. They stare deeply and adoringly into each other’s eyes and Dirk leans in, breath fluttering against Dave’s mouth. He says lowly, miming gravitas, “Of course I do, Dave. I told you I fuck good.” 

As Dave rolls his eyes, Dirk snorts and turns the page again, drawing both of their gazes back down to the photo, before he looks up again with a heartachingly fond expression. “Are they your friends?” 

“Oh.” Dave touches the picture, in which he appears as a skinny sixteen-year-old, sandwiched comfortably between a boy and girl, both with wild, dark hair and light brown skin. “Jade and Karkat. My high school girlfriend. And, uh… our… boyfriend.”

“Oh shit?” Dirk inflects as if it’s a question, cautiously keeping his tone light and unintrusive. “You were”—he pauses around this word, like he’s not sure if his use of past tense will upset Dave—“dating both of them?”

“Well, just Jade for a couple years, before Karkat got up in the mix. But yeah. We were all together. Like, you know, a couple. Only three.” Dave bites his lip. This has been a point of contention with some of his past partners, even though he personally considers polyamory more like an option than a requirement. “Does that weird you out?”

Dirk shakes his head. “Just surprising, I guess. Didn’t realize you were poly.” He shrugs, clearly less interested in that subject than in the story contained in the picture, based on the intense way he’s staring at Karkat. But to Dave’s mild surprise, he asks about Jade instead. “I like her smile,” he says. “What was she like?”

Dave smiles almost reverently. “The fuckin’ best. You’d like her. Smart, funny, pretended not to see through my bullshit cool kid act even though she totally did. And tall.” He holds his hand over his head to indicate. “So tall. I can’t relate to dudes who won’t date girls taller than them. Downright cowardly, if you ask me.”

“That’s because you’re _into_ getting topped, Dave,” Dirk states dismissively and with devastating accuracy, patting Dave’s hovering hand. “Why’d you two break up?”

“She went away to college. She was a grade above me and Karkat,” he explains. “She still loved us and stuff, but she wanted to do the wild college thing and date lots of people. Me and Karkat, we weren’t really about that, so we split, amicable-like.” He grins. “She never really grew out of the wild college thing. I think the current count is three girlfriends and a couple boyfriends. It’s hard to keep an accurate count for long.”

Dirk gives a low, impressed whistle. “Living her best life.”

“Damn straight.”

Setting his hand over Karkat’s picture, Dirk glances sidelong at Dave. “So. Was he—Karkat, I mean—your first boyfriend?”

“Mmm. Yeah.”

“And you dated even after Jade, sounds like.” Dave nods, and Dirk looks at him carefully, thinking over something and likely making all kinds of calculations. “You don’t have to answer, but…” His gaze drops back down to the photo. “Did it end badly?” It sounds a little like he might prefer one answer over the other, but Dave can’t suss out which.

“Not really.” Dave touches the photo again—Jade’s hair, then Karkat’s. He shrugs. “Just didn’t work out. Circumstances. Sucked at the time, but he’s still my best bro.” 

There is a long, tense pause, then Dirk lays his hand lightly over Dave’s. “Do you regret that?” He is too good at hiding his emotions behind monotone, but the monotone itself is kind of a tell.

“Staying friends with him? All the time. Karkat is an obnoxious tool.” Dave laughs at his own lame joke, but he knows Dirk deserves a real answer. “Okay, honestly? Yeah, kinda, sometimes. We were… good. Comfortable. We just fit, i guess. And it’s not like that stopped bein’ true just ‘cause shit changed in our lives and we couldn’t make it work just then. But that’s life, I guess. And it was over a decade ago. I got past it.” He pokes Dirk right in that little crease between his eyebrows, knowing where his head is at. “I _don’t_ regret where I ended up.”

Snorting, Dirk shifts his head away from Dave’s finger, relaxing in increments as he returns to flipping through the book. Dave leans over and kisses him on the upper curve of his gorgeous jawline, and Dirk sighs softly at the contact.

“The real struggle of dating a dude twelve years older than me is keeping track of all the people I have to be insanely jealous of, for dating you before my balls even dropped.” Dirk plays at looking busted up. It’s a little too convincing, like he’s exaggerating his real feelings to cover them. “And it is so obvious from every one of these pictures of you with other people that you had crushes on fuckin’ everybody. I’m going to have to make a goddamn shipping chart to keep all these blood feuds straight.”

“Well damn, I prob’ly shouldn’t tell you about college, then. For the sake of your sanity and peace on earth and whatnot.”

“Goddammit, I forgot about college,” Dirk says, pressing his fingers to his temples, but the upward twitch of his lips gives the lie to his playacting. “Give me a ballpark on how many people you hooked up with and I’ll decide whether I need to lose my cool.”

Dave rubs his chin, making an exaggerated thinking face. “Almost definitely less than a ballpark.” He laughs at the look on Dirk’s face. “You don’t have a monopoly on being a slut, Dirk. I just came to it a little later.”

“Fine, whatever,” Dirk grunts before returning to the photos. “I’ll come on you a little later.”

They page through the rest of the album together, Dirk asking the occasional question. His open delight is a better gift than any physical present he could have given Dave.

The photo on the last page was taken especially for this gift. In it, present-day Dave stands in his bathroom, holding his old camera from middle school and aping his thirteen-year-old self’s flat affect.

“Ah,” Dirk says softly, caught by surprise, his voice pregnant with emotion. He touches the photo with reverent fingers and Dave leans in, resting his head on Dirk’s shoulder. Gently setting the book on the bedside table, Dirk presses his lips to Dave’s forehead. “Thank you. That was the best present you could have given me, Dave.”

Dave takes the photo album’s place by scooting into Dirk’s now empty lap, settling in with his legs curled loosely around Dirk’s waist. “Better than the sex?”

“Well,” Dirk says, tone shifting as his hands admiringly trace down the outline of Dave’s torso through his own shirt. Dirk is several inches taller and much broader, so the shirt that was skin-tight on him is pretty baggy on Dave and doing very little to hide the still very naked situation that’s starting to become apparent below the hem. “Close second.”

“I don't know whether I should be flattered or concerned that you got a full blown hard-on from looking at pictures of me as a teenager.”

“Sorry, I just couldn’t stop myself from fantasizing about all the sex we would be having if I could time travel.” Tugging his collar aside with a hooked finger, Dirk presses his lips to Dave’s exposed shoulder and starts working on yet another red mark to add to the substantial collection he’s amassing on Dave’s skin. His free hand works its way between them, brushing lightly down Dave’s foreskin, almost questioning.

“Maybe I should be more tripped up by this whole sitch where _I_ got a hard-on from you getting a hard-on from looking at pictures of me as a teenager.” Dave sets his hands on Dirk’s chest and pushes him back onto the mattress, situating himself more comfortably on his knees, still straddling Dirk’s lap. “Anyway, we’re having plenty of sex now, dickprince.” Plucking a condom from the pile Dirk made earlier, he rolls it down Dirk’s dick and locates the lube. “Case in point.”

“Mm, true.” Dirk breathes, holding Dave’s hips steady as he carefully pushes in for the third time this evening with Dave guiding him, easy going now. His exhale sounds relieved, like his dick has finally returned to its rightful home up Dave’s ass. “Point taken.”

“I’m the one taking the point here,” Dave ripostes, arousal heavy in his voice. It’s not his best comeback, but he thinks that can be forgiven, what with the size of the dick he just impaled himself on. Sinking down with a soft groan, he settles in, leaning back on one arm and using the other to fist himself lazily.

“And you look so pretty taking it,” Dirk murmurs, trying to get Dave to move with ineffectual attempts at thrusts into him. They go ignored and Dave stays seated and still, putting his weight into keeping Dirk’s hips from lifting off the mattress. He’s content to enjoy the stretch and fullness of having Dirk all the way inside him at his leisure. “Dave,” Dirk prompts in a husky voice, nudging again. 

He clicks his tongue. “You’re not in charge this time, kiddo,” he corrects gently.

“Uh.” Looking uncertain for all of a second before the expression is smothered under arousal as Dave pats his cheek, Dirk swallows hard. “Alright, Mr. Strider,” he manages thickly, suddenly much less cocky. 

“Good boy,” Dave coos, rocking his hips to reward that good behavior.

“I—” Dirk’s voice cracks into a higher register as he grips Dave’s hips, making Dave want to pinch his cheeks. “I almost believed you that time…”

“Would be downright rude if you didn’t,” Dave admonishes, putting on his teacher voice. Dirk’s fingers tighten spasmodically on his body. “Unless you’re try’na call me a liar. Are you?”

“No, sir,” Dirk breathes.

“Well, shit.” Dave raises up til just the tip of Dirk’s cock is inside him and then comes down hard, pulling a loud groan from Dirk’s throat. “That was easy. Can’t believe I finally found the trick to gettin’ you to show me some damn respect.”

“Can— _fuck_ —can you really not believe that the answer was riding my dick all along?”

“Nah, I believe that part.” 

Dirk utters a barely comprehensible word, sounding a little like a swear and a little like ‘good’, as Dave bends forward and sucks a mark onto Dirk’s collarbone as he rocks his hips slowly. Lost in reverie, Dirk continues, “God, do you remember when we first met”—how romantic—“and I’d already managed to piss you off but I brilliantly went and asked if you did a lot of riding anyway?”

Dave busts out laughing at the memory juxtaposed with their current position and, obviously following the same line of thought, Dirk starts chuckling too. “You were and _are_ such an unbelievable fuckin’ idiot,” he manages fondly, as his laughter trickles off and Dirk’s hands stroke adoringly over his skin. Every one of his touches validates Dave’s words— _Yes_ , they say, _I’m stupid in love with you_. Catching one of Dirk’s wrists, Dave brings Dirk’s palm to his heart and holds it there as he lifts up, before slowly sinking down onto Dirk again. They both groan in unison and Dave exhales, “But your cock fills me up so good.” 

“ _Oh,_ fuck—” The arm not in Dave’s clutches gets thrown over his eyes as his back arches off the bed. His hips try to buck up again, but Dave drives them back down, grinding his ass hard into Dirk’s pelvis and making Dirk nearly keen. 

“You feel that?” Dave presses Dirk’s hand to his chest tightly, feeling his own pulse pounding in his ears, only increasing in tempo as he bounces on Dirk’s cock. Dirk replies in a choked moan, every muscle in his abdomen pulled taught as a bowstring, like he’s desperately trying to stave off his orgasm. Dave nearly laughs again, feeling affectionate as he slides Dirk’s hand down his stomach and rests it on his dick. “Dirk, the teacher asked you a question,” he scolds, tone facetious but voice breathy as Dirk takes hold of his cock. Dave wraps his own hand around Dirk’s, guiding it, showing him how he wants to be touched.

“Mr. Str—” Dirk starts on the tail end of a groan, strain in his voice and body. Flinging his arm away from his face, his blown pupils desperately lock onto Dave. “ _Dave_ , I’m going to—”

“That’s okay, Dirk. Go ahead,” Dave says gently, using his free hand to brush the frizzed, sweat-sticky hair off Dirk’s forehead. “You’re such a good boy.”

Without the presence of mind to look embarrassed, Dirk tosses his head back and his eyes squeeze shut, breath caught in his lungs. Dave brushes Dirk’s hand away and takes over jacking himself off, slumping over Dirk’s chest as his dick manages to drool some watery come onto his stomach. Panting, Dave sits until it becomes too much, then rolls to the side to let Dirk divest himself of the condom. Fumbling for a tissue, Dirk makes an expression that is partially a wince and partially blissed out as he cleans off his dick and stomach, then tosses the mess in the general direction of the wastebasket. 

Both breathing heavily, Dirk gathers Dave against his side. “I really like you in my shirt,” he says warmly, fingering the hem before pushing it up to get his hand on sex-flushed bare skin. “Especially when it is all you’re wearing while sitting on my dick and playing daddy.” 

“Do you realize how many times you’ve used that word in relation to me?” Dave says dryly, and presses a sloppy kiss to Dirk’s shoulder. After three rounds he’s barely conscious. He’s honestly surprised his balls weren’t already drained dry. “You got some kinda Freudian issues you aren’t dealing with?”

“I’m _dealing_ with them.” Patting Dave’s ass knowingly, Dirk‘s teeth flash in a smirk. “I’ve dealt with them a few times now.”

“Not sure this is what Sigmund had in mind,” Dave mumbles into Dirk’s skin.

“Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, Dave.” 

“You just got done fucking an older male authority figure for the third time in like five hours. Something tells me this ain’t the kinda cigar you just put in your mouth to smoke.”

“I have plenty of male authority figures in my life that I don’t fuck,” Dirk points out.

“I think one fills the quota, dude.” Dave kisses Dirk’s chest absently until he gently slips out of reach to fish his boxers out of his jeans. “I was promised cake,” he pouts.

“Let’s get cake. And shower.”

Dave groans at the thought of getting out of bed. “I’m not actually sure I can move.”

Shoulders shaking with soft but proud laughter, Dirk grabs Dave’s hands to help him up. 

“Carry me,” Dave demands petulantly as he’s pulled into a sitting position. “You did this.”

“Who’s the grown-up now?” Dirk’s tone is exasperated, but he still perches on the edge of the bed, offering his back if Dave can manage to cling to it.

“Still me,” Dave declares as he climbs on. “Giddy up, motherfucker.”

\---------------------------------

Both cakes are equally delicious, and Dirk does actually admit that, however reluctantly, as he goes for his second piece of Mr. Egbert’s cake. It is his fourth piece total, and he seems to be barely slowing down. Dave makes a mental note to bring that up every time Dirk makes a passive-aggressive comment about Egbert from now on. 

When they’re done gorging, Dirk drags Dave to the shower with barely contained enthusiasm, both for removing the accumulated dried body fluids and for sharing his favorite ritual with Dave. Less than two minutes in, he predictably tries to talk Dave into getting humped against the tile and Dave reminds him that both he and his penis are thirty years old and there’s no way he’s popping any more stiffies tonight even if his ass could take it. Since it is Dirk’s birthday, after all, Dave indulges him with a quick handjob instead, soap-slick hands moving along his skin as they lean into a warm corner with the showerhead raining on them and Dirk’s gasping breaths mingling with the steamy air. The hot water is starting to run out by the time he’s finished, but Dave is too tired to move so Dirk lovingly washes him off and wraps them both in towels.

They return to the bedroom, clean and dry, only to remember the mess all over the sheets. Dave throws himself nakedly on the shitty papasan chair by the window and demands that Dirk remake the bed himself since, as Dave insists, “This is all your fault anyway.” He half falls asleep in the chair while Dirk is working, and has to be dragged to bed. Once they’re settled under the covers, Dirk wraps himself around Dave like a giant baby sloth and Dave once again falls asleep listening to his breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final chapter will be posted w/in the week hopefully. there's porn in that one too sorry lmfao dirk was extremely horny and so were we
> 
> oh also jic it wasn't clear this is NOT the final work in the bad decisions series. we have a ton of ideas for future fics and will probably be following these idiots for literal years both irl and in-text
> 
> p.s. can't believe i got to make two of my favorite long-standing headcanons canon to this fic (davejadekat and that jade is extremely poly) and that before we could actually post it hussie made them textual canon in actual homestuck
> 
> like im not saying hussie copied me but..............................


	4. you had you some birthdays, could you prove it? show me the wisdom in your movement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took longer than i was hoping, i caught the flu and we both have adhd whoops  
> also sorry the chapters are so inconsistent in length???? we wrote pretty much the whole fic and then broke it up and there were only a few places where chapter breaks felt natural
> 
> anyway!!!! we both now have homestuck-specific public twitter accounts, please follow us! i'm @stridongs and laura/centaur is @stridonut come listen to us yell about striders
> 
> \--xoxo kelsey/witchofspaz

Dave jerks awake to the sound of loud, obnoxious beeping. Before he can even wake up enough to remember what he’s supposed to do about it, Dirk slaps the alarm clock off the bedside table onto the floor and clings to Dave tighter. 

“Call out sick,” he demands in a sleepy slur, mindlessly kissing the side of Dave’s head. “Mm, text Egbert—you can’t teach today. Where’s… your phone…?”

“Dirk…” Dave pries unsuccessfully at the muscular arm wrapped around his middle. “I’m not calling out so I can screw one of my students all day.” A pause. “You’re __definitely__ not playing hooky just to bang your teacher all day.”

“Who said anything about banging all day?” Dirk pulls the covers up to their noses with the arm not keeping Dave pressed against him. It is extremely comfortable and warm, and Dave feels himself fighting against unconsciousness. “Call out. We both need more sleep. You especially.”

“Only because you refused to climb off my dick,” Dave mumbles. God, his bed feels good, and Dirk’s naked body all wrapped around him feels even better. Dave has a poor tolerance for cold, and in winter he usually needs extra blankets at night, but with Dirk in the bed he’s warm and cozy even without the extra layers.

“Other way around,” Dirk corrects indistinctly, nuzzling into Dave’s hair. “Did you text yet?”

“I have to actually call.” Dave fumbles on the nightstand for his phone, unearthing it from under the pile of condoms. “I’m pretty sure Pops doesn’t even know what texting is. He still has a flip phone.”

“Archaic,” Dirk whispers with disgust as Dave pulls up Dad’s number and presses the screen to his face. Immediately, almost in sync with each ring, Dirk starts to kiss along Dave’s bare shoulder, navigating hickies with his tongue and settling in to make a fresh one right as Dad picks up.

“David? Are you alright, son?”

“Yeah, I’m good, Pops,” Dave says automatically, and Dirk bites him, pressing teeth into a bruise. “ _ _Ah__ —I mean, no. I think I got… uh, food poisoning.”

“Oh dear, and on your birthday of all days.” He doesn’t exactly sound suspicious, but he also doesn’t sound like he entirely believes Dave. He’s indulgent nevertheless, as he tends to be. “Well, we can find a substitute for you again, not to worry. But I think it is about time we considered trying out those cooking lessons again, hm? You know I worry about you eating all that takeaway and junk food. It’s not healthy, David.”

“I think cooking for myself would actually up my chances of getting food poisoning, Pops.”

Egbert chuckles like the handsome lead of some black and white movie, briefly reminding Dave why he had a hormone-fueled and deeply confusing crush on the dude back in high school. Dave can practically hear the pipe shifting from one side of his mouth to the other. “We don’t give up before we try, David.”

Dirk’s hand slides intently down Dave’s stomach, and he slaps it away. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Pops. I’ll be back at work tomorrow.”

“Rest up and stay hydrated. It’s no trouble at all to stop by, if you need anything.” Uh, no? __No__. Dave almost swallows his tongue in his rush to shoot that disaster of an idea down.

“No,” he says too loudly, and Dirk snorts softly behind him. “I’m good. I have lots of, um… lots of gatorade in the fridge. Don’t worry about me, I’m cool.”

“Excellent,” Mr. Egbert booms. “I’m sure you’ll be feeling better soon. Take care now, son. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Pops. See ya.” He hangs up hastily, drops his phone on the floor, and elbows Dirk in the stomach. Dirk releases an unsatisfyingly tiny grunt, and Dave sputters, “What was that line of bull you fed me about not banging all day?”

“I woke up enough to fully process the situation,” Dirk says reasonably. “I can’t be held responsible for what I say while I’m barely conscious.” He nips Dave’s earlobe to punctuate that disgustingly articulate thought.

“Okay, definitely not conceding that point, but could you not have reined in the overactive teenage hormones for five minutes while I talked to my boss who is also sort of like my dad?” His voice goes a little shriller on that last sentence than he’s comfortable with.

“I probably __could__ have.”

“I fuckin’ hate you so much,” Dave grumbles.

In lieu of a reply, Dirk gently pushes Dave’s shoulder, rolling him onto his back so that he can more easily connect their mouths. Despite the increasingly sexual energy Dirk has been exuding, it’s a fairly tame and relaxed kiss, like the vestiges of sleep are still lingering enough to mellow out the fervor. Or maybe he just jizzed it all out. Dave himself is still exhausted, sore, and perfectly happy to just make out a little. He twines his arms lazily around Dirk’s neck and opens his mouth to Dirk’s questing tongue. It’s unbelievably dear, to have this intimacy, this closeness totally lacking in urgency; that Dirk feels safe and sated enough not to grab for every scrap of attention or sex he can wring out of Dave.

Dirk breaks the kiss to shower soft, wet kisses over Dave’s jaw and throat, and Dave sighs softly.

“I feel like a truck ran over me and then backed up to finish the job,” he says. “Maybe ‘cause some asshole ploughed mine three times last night.”

“Would have been four if you had gotten it up in the shower,” Dirk laughs, sweetly resting his chin on Dave’s pectoral and gazing adoringly up at his face. “I’d call that a good birthday.” 

“For you or me?” Dave deadpans, but softens it with a smooch to Dirk’s forehead. His hand finds his way into Dirk’s hair and he pets it softly as his eyes start to close. He’s so tired.

“Prostate orgasm,” Dirk reminds him, and Dave gives him a half-hearted punch in the side.

“You can’t just win every argument with that forever, you know?”

“Don’t underestimate me, Dave.”

\---------------------------------

Dave wakes again to late morning light filtering through the blinds and his bladder screaming its fullness at him. Dirk is still draped half over him, head on his chest and a possessive arm slung across his waist, but he manages to untangle himself without disturbing the sleeping teen.

Upon returning from his morning piss, he’s struck by the way the soft, warm light hits Dirk’s features. Sleep softens their harsh lines and sharp angles, making him look much younger, more relaxed than Dave has ever seen him and kind of stupidly beautiful. Impulsively, he grabs his sketchbook and curls up in the papasan chair to capture the moment.

He gets absorbed in the task, quick sketch becoming detailed portrait, and maybe twenty minutes go by before he sees Dirk’s eyelids flutter and, panicking, he flings the sketchbook across the room. Not the slickest maneuver. He doesn't even have the presence of mind to aim, and it crashes down on Dirk’s face, bringing him flailing to a sitting position. The sketchbook falls straight into his lap, like God delivering a chilly “fuck you” to the tattered remains of Dave’s pride.

“What the fuck?” Dirk’s voice is gravelly with sleep and his movements are clumsy and slow as he knuckles the sleep from his eyes, blinking blearily down at the object that woke him.

“Nothing,” Dave says hastily and way too loudly, starting to emit a noise not dissimilar to a car alarm as Dirk yawns and picks up the sketchbook. “Wait! __Don’t—__ ” he yelps as he leaps out of the papasan, diving for the book. The mattress and Dirk’s lap provide a soft enough landing, but Dirk is faster and lifts the sketchbook out of the way just in time, holding it aloft. Dave makes a grab for it, and Dirk lifts it higher, out of his reach.

“Are you __actually__ twelve, what the fuck?”

“Why is that your go-to insult whenever I embarrass you? I can’t imagine it makes you feel _better_ about that age difference you refuse to stop bringing up.”

“Because you're literally an infant, shut up, I hate you. Give it back, assface.”

“In a second.” Still above his head, Dirk flips the book open, paging past sketches of birds and shitty cartoons and pages full of doodled penises until he finds what he’s looking for. Even from his awkward position sprawled over Dirk’s stomach, Dave can still see the way Dirk smiles at the drawings of himself, some dated months back. The expression on his face is mirrored in some of the sketches, that fond, mildly exasperated look captured lovingly by Dave’s pen. Others: Dirk bent over a project and deeply focused with that furrow between his eyebrows, Dirk slouched in a chair for his classmates to practice their figure drawing with the light catching his sharp cheekbones, Dirk with that lazy grin and sly gaze that make Dave’s heart skip a beat every time. Dave hides his face in Dirk’s lap, groaning.

He flips again and regards his own sleeping face. “I feel like whatever I say is going to sound narcissistic, but these are really nice, Dave.” Dave grunts in response without lifting his head. “I don’t know how I didn’t notice you drawing me. I do practically nothing but stare at you whenever you are anywhere near me.”

“I’m stealthy,” Dave explains to Dirk’s comforter-covered thigh. “Years of experience being embarrassingly horny from afar.” He thinks about that for a second, then adds, “Not for you, that would be gross. For you, only like… one year, maybe.”

“Cool, thank you for qualifying that in a way that could not possibly be taken offensively.” He ruffles Dave’s hair, prompting him to peek up at Dirk’s face.

“Sorry, did you think I was totally hot for your skinny fifteen-year-old ass? You weren’t even tall yet. Gross.”

“Yeah, fair, you were always pretty blatantly uninterested until I got swole. Still, I can’t say it is particularly enjoyable to be reminded of the dark time, when I was in full-on unrequited pining mode.”

“But look how well it turned out in the end.” Dave rolls to his side and gestures flamboyantly to his own body. “I’m all naked and shit.” Dirk takes that invitation happily, eyes roaming possessively over Dave. He kisses the sharp cut of Dirk’s hipbone, because it’s right there, practically begging him to.

“It is a pretty good ending.” Dirk’s voice is warm, and unusually sincere.

“Could make it, uh. A happy one. If you know what I mean.” Dave walks his fingers along Dirk’s abs and gives him an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle.

Dirk snorts at him, brow raised. “You’re not too sore?”

“I’m definitely too sore,” Dave says, kissing along Dirk’s hip with obvious intent. “But we can work around that.” 

“Oh,” Dirk expels, like all the breath is punched out of his chest on that one syllable. Dave hums agreeably, dipping his tongue into Dirk’s navel and following the trail of dark, coarse hair leading downward from it. Without pushing, but encouraging all the same, Dirk’s hand settles on the crown of Dave’s head.

“Mm, little Dirk is happy to see me,” Dave observes. “Morning, buddy.”

“Dave, I’m going to have to kindly request that you do not engage in dialogue with my cock.” 

Dave wraps his hand around the base. “You got a gorgeous dick, anybody ever told you that?” he says conversationally. “I mean, just off sheer numbers, probably yeah, right?” Without waiting for an answer, he licks a drop of pre off the tip and hears Dirk’s intended reply cut off by a jumble of huffed syllables. 

“Cool, I figured,” Dave continues. “I can’t imagine anyone scoping out this monster and not wanting to get their mouth on it. Though I guess you were hookin’ up with a lot of dumbass straight boys who couldn’t appreciate a truly handsome meat popsicle if it slapped them in the face, so maybe not. Actually, come to that, I dunno how often your dick was even out, but you are pretty decent at fuckin’ so I’d assume more than once?”

“More than once,” Dirk agrees, words clipped. “But less often than you might think.”

“Jeez, that’s kinda sad.”

Dirk shakes his head, exhaling another few words. “I was saving things for you.”

Dave looks up at him with a cheek pressed against his dick. Then he addresses it directly: “Pretty uncool to you, huh, lil’ Dirk. Sorry you had to suffer for my sake. I never told him he had to be weird as fuck about sex to win me over. That was totally his call. Like, I never assigned him an internship, all, ‘Yo Dirk, don’t forget, you gotta get in at least 300 hours of one-on-one dick time in order to qualify for your Dave Fucking License.’ He just took that on himself. Fuckin’ A students, dog. Unbelievable. It’s like a sickness.”

“Dave,” Dirk grunts irritably. “You are going to make me lose my boner.”

“Evidence is pointing to the contrary so far,” Dave shoots back, aping Dirk’s customary flat tones. “I think he likes it,” Dave whispers conspiratorially to the dick. “Mm, I know _you_ do.” He licks up the frenum and wraps his lips around the head.

“I’m in hell,” Dirk groans, but it sounds a little closer to pleasure than exasperation. 

“I’m sucking a high school student’s dick right now, so I’ll meet you there.” For once, Dave doesn’t sound torn up about it.

“Got to say you’re doing a lot more talking than sucking.”

“Not my fault your schlong is such a sparkling conversationalist, Dirk.” He turns back to his new best friend. “Big Dirk is being hella rude, not to mention ungrateful.” Then he takes it as far into his mouth as he can without swallowing and sucks.

Arching up off the bed and curling his fist into Dave’s hair, Dirk moans. Dave keeps his hips pinned with his thumbs, firmly squeezing into the dip made by his jutting bones, not quite ready to relinquish control to Dirk while he’s still warming up. It is a lot of dick to get in his mouth and he’s not thirsting to get choked just yet.

“Dave, __fuck—“__ Dirk hisses as Dave tongues along him. Dirk might have him beat with sheer number of blowjobs, but Dave is no slouch, and he has time and maturity on his side. He’s had more chances to develop his technique, let it age. A true BJ connoisseur would recognize the quality of the uh, vintage. Dirk wouldn’t know shit—might as well be pouring him a glass of beej from the fridge box. Adolescent-ass motherfucker, needs some tasting lessons.

He might or might not be muttering fragments of this monologue every time he takes a breath off of Dirk’s dick. Either Dirk is making too much noise himself to be bothered by it, or he’s a big liar and is actually into it, and it is almost definitely the latter, because he keeps panting, “Don’t stop, Dave—“

“Not gonna,” he mumbles, fucking Dirk’s spit coated dick through the tight loop of his fist. “Me and little Dirk are best bros now, and I wouldn't never leave him hanging.”

Dirk aspirates whatever words he was going to say, chokes on a laugh, then keens as Dave pulls him back into his mouth, stroking Dirk’s wrist and hip permissively.

Dirk doesn’t need much encouragement. In fact, it’s a little like letting loose a bull, calm and then chaos as Dirk expertly twists a handful of Dave’s hair in between his fingers like reins, holding him steady as he gives a few shallow rocks of his hips. Dave hums an agreeable noise and makes eye contact with Dirk just as he yanks hard on Dave’s head, shoving him down onto his cock as he bucks up into his mouth, pulling him off and then thrusting back in again. Tears pool in the back of Dave’s eyes and his sadly ignored dick throbs against the mattress as he gives up trying to finesse his tongue and just provides as much suction as he can with Dirk ruthlessly choking him.

He makes a small, helpless sound, and that seems to drive Dirk over the edge, because he releases a choked moan followed by another, louder and less controlled. His hips buck, and hot, bitter fluid floods Dave’s throat. He swallows it greedily, grinding his hips against the mattress.

Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, Dave rests his cheek against Dirk’s thigh and looks up at his face with a satisfied little smile.

“Mmm,” he says slyly. “That was kinda fast, wasn’t it?”

“Fuck off,” Dirk breathes contentedly, laying his entire palm across Dave’s face and covering most of it.

“Language,” Dave says mildly. He leaves Dirk’s hand where it is, as if it isn’t even there.

“You don’t have any right to tell me to watch _my_ mouth when you just sucked my brains out, Dave.”

“I have every right, _because_ I just sucked your brains out,” Dave says patronizingly as he climbs up Dirk’s body to settle in his lap. “Ungrateful brat, don’t you know anything about proper BJ etiquette? Your mother would be ashamed. Jesus, I’m so hard. Fucking do something about it.”

“Goddammit. I just had the best blowjob of my life and now I have to associate it with my mom’s disappointment.”

“As you should, I would think,” Dave points out.

“Are you like, intentionally trying to murder the mood? I already got off, so it’s whatever to me, but you did ask me to do something about your dick...” Dirk’s hand strokes down Dave’s stomach.

“That wasn’t a request,” Dave corrects. “Listen to teacher.” He grabs Dirk’s teasing hand and puts it directly on his erection.

One of Dirk’s eyebrows lifts but his fingers wrap around Dave, making him hiss and sway against Dirk’s chest. “I’m listening,” he says, a little smugly, as he pulls the foreskin up over the head and slides it back down, squeezing a soft noise from Dave’s mouth.

“Do that again,” Dave sighs. “That’s good.” He presses soft kisses on Dirk’s chest, positive reinforcement doubling as a plea.

Dirk does it again, and then again but faster. He twists his grip as he slides up, calloused pads of his palm rolling over the fluid slick tip. Dave makes a soft noise that slides into a deeper moan as Dirk slowly brings his hand to his mouth and very visibly licks up the smear of precome. “Any further instructions, Mr. Strider?”

“Nngh, yeah,” Dave manages, his eyes locked on Dirk’s mouth. His voice has a hypnotic quality to it, and Dave feels oddly helpless, like Dirk is somehow taking charge even as Dave is telling him what to do. “Touch it... directly this time. The head. Oh, fuck,” he continues as Dirk’s thumb swipes over it obediently, just a little too firmly. Dave meets his eyes, studies them, but can’t quite tell if he’s doing it on purpose. “ _ _Gently__ ,” he corrects hoarsely. “It’s more sensitive than... yours, __Jesus.__ ” 

Dirk cocks a brow like he’s daring Dave to do something, though just what that is isn’t clear, and his thumb drags slowly over Dave’s slit with just the right amount of pressure to make his nerves sing. Dave whines, and Dirk cups the back of his neck with a caressing hand and leans in to kiss him softly on the lips. When he pulls back, his hand stays there, fingers twined into strands of hair like they are puppet strings. When Dave moves in to kiss him back, he’s not sure if it’s his idea or Dirk’s, only that he needs it. He makes hungry noises into Dirk’s mouth as Dirk matches the strokes of his tongue to the strokes of his hand on Dave’s cock.

As he gets more and more worked up, it gets harder to breathe, and he has to break the kiss just to get some air in his lungs. He leans his forehead into Dirk’s shoulder for several long seconds, then starts pressing sloppy, entreating kisses on his chest and clavicles.

“I don’t like how good you are at this,” Dave says thoughtlessly, half into Dirk’s neck. He’s too focused on the hand working his dick to think about what he’s saying even as much as he usually does, so the words just spill out unedited.

Dirk snorts into his ear, nuzzling it. “You want me to be bad at it?”

“Nooooo.” Dave tries to think about his answer, but Dirk does this __thing__ with his thumb and index finger and he forgets how to form sentences for a second. “Just… a little less… good. It’s annoying. It’s— _fuck_. That’s… fuck.”

“Yeah, you’ve pretty much nailed the primary definition of fuck.” Dirk pulls his hand away only long enough to spit into his palm, then resumes being too good at handjobsas he tugs Dave’s cock through his slicked grip.

Dave laughs and immediately chokes on it as Dirk picks up the pace. They’ve both abandoned the pretense that Dave is dictating the action, and instead he just pants against Dirk’s shoulder while Dirk works his dick and murmurs endearments interspersed with filthy promises.

“Do you have any idea how incredibly sexy you are? Goddamn, Dave,” Dirk breathes at him, the slow drawl of his voice matching the slide of his free hand over Dave’s splayed thigh and hip, coaxing Dave into writhing in his lap.

“Shut the fuck up,” Dave mumbles, and Dirk’s shoulders rise and fall with a wheezy chuckle. “You’re so embarrassing.”

“You are, though,” Dirk continues, unfazed. “I could watch you for hours, riding my lap, aching to come for me. Every time I touch you, it’s like…” He pauses, as if for once he can’t find just the right words to use. “Like you’re trying to feel it with every part of you. It’s a trip.” Dave sinks teeth into his collarbone, making him hiss and grasp Dave’s hip, pulling him close until his dick is nearly flush against Dirk’s abdomen. 

“Dave.” He sounds possessive but infinitely gentle and Dave gasps at a particularly tight stroke, clutching at the back of Dirk’s neck. “C’mon, look at me.” 

Dave lifts his head haltingly to meet Dirk’s gaze. He must look a mess, sweaty and flushed and mussed from sleep and sex, but Dirk stares at him like he’s the first sign of land in an endless ocean. Mouth open, the tip of his tongue just barely pressed between his teeth like that can hold back how badly he wants to kiss him. “God, I love you,” he murmurs, making Dave’s breath stutter and his hips lurch. The second their lips touch he’s gone, shooting white ropes of jizz onto Dirk’s chest and stomach, dribbling onto his knuckles as Dirk strokes him through the aftershocks. 

The tissue box is within easy reach on the nightstand, so Dave doesn’t even have to dismount to let Dirk clean them both up. He mumbles thanks and collapses against Dirk’s chest, listening to his pounding heartbeat grow slow and steady while Dirk’s fingers trace idle patterns on his back.

“I was right, you know,” Dave says finally, apropos of nothing. “I knew the day we met, and I was spot fuckin’ on.”

“Hmm?” Dirk is distracted, barely listening, gently rooting behind Dave’s ear with the tip of his nose instead. He seems to find the precise spot he’s searching for and locks his lips on it, sucking, so that when Dave answers, it comes out as much breath as voice.

“You’re trouble.”

Dirk’s laugh is deep and rich and ringing with genuine happiness as he flops Dave onto his back to show him just how much trouble he can be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this COULD be the end of the story but we don't fucking know how to stop so there's gonna be more. like, a lot more probably
> 
>  
> 
> (next fic will most likely be dave topping dirk for the first time yeehaw)
> 
> see you then WE LOVE YOU


End file.
